Alptraum
by KuriQuinn
Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what’s staring back at you in the mirror.
1. Schlaflosigkeit

**_Alptraum_**

_Author:_ KuriQuinn

_Rating:_ R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

_Summary:_ (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

_Note_: So far, Miyami is not in this particular fanfic. She might eventually turn up, but I'm attempting to write a fic without stealing my best friend's character.

* * *

Chapter One: Schlaflosigkeit

Your heart races as though you're running a marathon, only in this case you're lying in the dark and the cause of your heartbeat is terror and not hurried movement. You know that it's a dream, but as hard as you try to wake yourself up, you can't. Something is holding you in, a lot like a rip tide. No matter how hard you struggle, the rip current drags you back. Much like the rip tide, you're drowning slowly in the darkness that's all around you. As your heart beats fast you feel the dark growing so huge that it enters your blood and suddenly all you see is the crimson dripping before you.

And then you finally wake up.

This is only a small taste of the feelings I experienced in the dreams that haunt me every night. Every single night. And sometimes they seep into my days.

I know that the others know nothing of my tortured soul, for lack of other non-poetic terms. They don't see how I cry and muffle my screams by biting my lips and tearing my hair. They don't know how I wake up in the middle of the night staring at my hands, which moments ago in my nightmares were stained with their blood. Conveniently, it's all covered up behind the winning smile that I have on my face every waking moment.

Who would have thought that light-hearted, always laughing, smart-ass, never serious Chaya Tate could ever have such dark dreams?

It's all part of the jester's mask to keep people from seeing how torn up and bleeding I am on the inside.

I bet you think I'm certifiably insane, or depressed or something. Sometimes I think that I am too. Other times I know exactly why I endure sickening visions every night and premonitions of gruesome things to come. It's because of the sacred spirit that I share my body with.

How can a sacred spirit inhabit a body? Even share it? How did this happen to me? Why me?

Well, most of those questions would be impossible to answer.

Cliff-notes version, when I was little, I unleashed a vengeful dark guardian to become stronger. Zorn, the entity that I wanted to bend to my will, tried to take over my body and spirit for herself. I only just managed to lock her away again, which resulted in a shit-load of therapy for me.

Or so I thought.

For seven years, Zorn lay within me causing me occasional dark dreams that always left me to awake in a cold sweat. And then last year I gave in and let Zorn free again, to help me and my teammates win a petty kids game. And once again, she tried to take over and I had to lock the power away. This time, however, she managed to use a lot of her power to keep on opening. She holds dominion over my subconscious as well as some of my waking mind.

It's been two years now; ever since the Beyblading World Championships in Russia when those who wanted to harness the power of the sacred spirits to enslave the world. Ever since I exploited her powers to enter a crystallis to help Takao save the world from the sinister work of a psychopath and his team of hybrid creeps. Since then I watch every night as she manipulates my dreams to unspeakable horrors that leave me shaking when I wake up.

Whenever we are guests in another country for a tournament, I manage to convince my friends that I need the only room that's there. To keep them for worrying or suspecting I tell them that I developed a shitty habit of talking in my sleep. This is enough to keep me on my own, because they listen to my babbling enough during the day…

A question I tend to ask myself if 'why'; why I stay with this team if it causes me all this mental anguish. Am I some kind of glutton for punishment? Actually, I guess you could say that I'm like a drug addict. The power Zorn creates is like a high. For a few seconds, I feel perfectly at peace and on top of the world, before plunging back into inner turmoil.

Because of my inability to sleep I spend my nights sitting in the main room watching the other sleep. No, I'm not a stalker or some kind of psycho pervert. It just amazes me that my friends and teammates are able to sleep with waking up screaming.

Except for one person.

_'Kai_.'

When I first started to watch the silent bodies sleeping, I thought he was having regular nightmares. Nothing too horrible. But then I began to notice the little things. Like how although he never showed any emotion during the day or when he was around us, in his sleep he showed so many unguarded faces. Pain, sadness, fear…he even spoke more in his sleep. Terror filled, sometimes angry words in a language I know to be Russian, but can never understand. Although he speaks so silently that none of

our sleeping companions will wake to, sitting by my window sill or chair in the hotel of the week, I can hear everything.

I found my slate-haired captain fascinating. During the day, I was the stupid freak with the blond hair that was practically bouncing off the walls, and he was the calm, collected, untouchable teen that was too good for any of us. But at night, we are equal. He is tortured by his past; I'm tortured by the present.

Once, before I could stop myself, I reached out to comfort him. I'm amazed he didn't wake; on the contrary he stopped moaning moments later.

His being calmed helps me be calm for some reason and I sometimes doze lightly, never really slipping into dreams as I hear him call out the word '_mat'_ repeatedly.

One morning I actually did fall into a dreamless sleep and was awoken by the confused voices of my friends as they tried to figure out what the hell I was doing at the window sill at six o'clock in the morning.

I lied once again and told them that I had been sleep-walking.

They bought it, although Kai looked suspiciously at me, his crimson eyes betraying the emotionless mask that he usually wore.

I felt my heart seemed to stop. He knew.

I limited my nightly visits after that, spending dark, lonely nights in my room, shaking as I listened to my own labored breathing and echoes of Zorn's shrieks. Only when I couldn't bear it did I wake and sit at the sill.

That's what I'm doing tonight. Escaping the nightmare of me murdering my friends.

It's cold as I walk out into the room where the others are asleep. Takao and my twin brother Max share the pull out bed, while Kyoujiu and Rei share the double. Kai is stretched out on the cot in the corner. He's unusually silent tonight, lying with one arm draped across his forehead, slate-colored hair spilling over the material of his sweater.

Holding my arms around me for warmth, I start towards the chair near the window.

I can still hear them screaming…one long, high note that even thinking about makes me bloody curdle.

Suddenly, there's movement and I stop walking as Kai slowly sits up and stares right at me, his eyes the only thing I can really make out in the dark. Crimson orbs watching me reproachful-like.

We look at each other in silence for a long while and when he slowly pushes the covers back and stands, I feel the bottom drop from my stomach.

* * *

Alors, there's the first chapter. Enjoy. 


	2. Verblutet

**_Alptraum_**

_Author:_ KuriQuinn

_Rating:_ R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

_Summary:_ (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

_Note:_ So far, Miyami is not in this particular fanfic. She might eventually turn up, but I'm attempting to write a fic without stealing my best friend's character.

* * *

Chapter Two: Verblutet 

A lot of my past is hidden from me, some by choice, most by somewhat more sinister means. My memories hide in the shadows of my mind jumping out at me when I least expect then. I can only remember flashes of my past, mostly feelings and thoughts. I can only recall glimpses of my parents. They died in a fire when I was three.

It was deliberate.

They were murdered by my grandfather. He wanted to kill us all, but my sister and I survived to burden him. The only reason that he didn't manage to get rid of us was because he was under police suspicion.

That didn't stop him from sending me away a year later to a place I'm only now beginning to really remember. When I strain my mind, I can see flashes of what happened in my living nightmares---cold, hunger, pain…death. Sometimes I can put a face to the evil behind it all. It's always the same.

Voltaire.

It's taken me a few years, but I've finally been able to recall what really happened. The slow, tortuous training that were put through---not just to control the power of the sacred spirits, but to get rid of any potential threats.

Permanently.

After our first visit to the Abbey after all those years, I started to relive the things that I had been forced to do as a child, even when I wasn't under the control of Black Dranzer. I would see myself in the mirror, covered in blood that was so thick that I could taste it, but the next moment it was gone and it was only my bloodshot eyes staring back at myself in masked terror.

The visions not only haunted my dreams, but I began to hallucinate during the day, to the extent that I shattered one of the bathroom mirrors in a hotel we stayed in, trying to make the hallucinations go away. When the others asked, I lied and said that I'd tripped on the soap, but even as I was having my torn hands bandaged, the pain was waking me from the memories, offering me a new escape.

Since then, I keep a small blade with me at all times, in all places that we've been dragged to. By the time I get to the bathroom, no one is around to notice how long I actually spend in the shower. Kinomiya thinks I'm just obsessed with cleanliness and I don't bother to correct him. All that matters is getting away from the nightmares.

I'm not insane, you know.

Although…maybe I am. After all, it's really only the crazy people that insist they're not insane. Those people don't know what they're doing.

For me, it's not a mindless craving that you have no idea what you're doing until it's done. I know exactly what I'm doing. If I didn't have the pain to focus on, I _would_ go mad.

I bet a psychologist would label me as certifiable and want to lock me away in an institution where I couldn't hurt myself. Hell, even my team mates would want to me to be locked away if they knew what goes through my mind, probably thinking that I'm a danger to them.

But they'd never figure it out, they're all too selfish. Their biggest concern is if they lose a dim-witted spinning top match. Contrary to what everyone thinks, I really don't care about this stupid game. If I lose, the only feeling I get is shame at losing at such a stupid game. It's just a time killer, something else to keep my mind off the memories and hide my mental scars from the world.

For most of my life, it's worked.

Until I met her.

At first glance there wasn't anything remotely interesting about her. I mean, when I first met her, I bumped into her so hard that she fell over and I just kept walking. And when she was named a team member with the others, it wasn't that earth shattering either. The only change around us was that there was more laughter coming mostly from her direction.

But when she's quiet, it becomes a deathlike stillness. It's only happened thrice that I can remember, but each time I remember her eyes becoming dull and endless. She looked at me once with those eyes and it suddenly felt as though the nightmares increased tenfold. I had seen that expression before, I know I had…

My dreams became worse, and I spent more time trying to escape them by etching it into my flesh. No one noticed this because of the heavy gloves I always wear, but I felt sure someone seemed to be watching me.

The feeling didn't disappear and my suspicions as to who it was kept pointing me in her direction. Despite her cheerful exterior, things just didn't add up. Like why she insisted that she sleep away from everyone else…talking in your sleep is irritating, yes, but to have to lock herself into an extra room? And that night when we awoke to find her on the window sill a week ago.

I won't lie, I don't like the idea of being asleep when there are people awake and conscious around me, I feel as though they might at any moment begin to intrude on my space or notice things about me they shouldn't. I can't exactly sleep with heavy gloves on, it would be obvious that something is wrong. So I am the last to sleep and the first to awake every day.

Although sleep's an inaccuracy. Suffer is more what occurs.

The night I was sure it was her that watches me was when she tended to me in my sleep, as though to comfort me. No one's ever done something like that, and I was both angry that she had dared to touch me in my sleep…and relieved that someone had noticed. I've never felt the need to talk, in my life, but after that night I needed to. I needed to tell her and I think she needed to open up to me.

But I seemed to have scared her off that morning. It's been a week, I reflect silently, staring up at the ceiling beneath hooded eyes. Its dark and the swirls of black, although dizzying, does nothing to help me fall into the same sleep as the others are in. The cot I lie on is particularly hard and some part of me wishes that I had ignored my pride and taken Kon up on the offer of bunking with him.

That is, until I hear a sudden, soft padding of feet and the silent swish of an opening door.

So she's decided to come tonight.

She's halfway to the window, her breath a little labored, when I incline myself to a sitting position and stare her down.

Her eyes are terror filled, though I'm not sure that it's because of my catching her. It's something else. Something from before. They get wide as I finally stand and look down on her, trying to formulate something to say to her.

* * *

TBC 


	3. Geständnis

**_Alptraum_**

_Author:_ KuriQuinn

_Rating:_ R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

_Summary:_ (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

* * *

Chapter Three: Geständnis

For the longest time I wait for him to say something, and if he can't do that, at least do something. Even in the darkness I can see his eyes studying me, looking me over. Only his eyes, though. Everything else is hidden from me.

His head moves to one side, as though considering something, and then he finally moves, walking toward me. I feel my breath catch and my heart rate begin to beat faster, and when he pauses in front of me I steal myself for a hiss of desisting, a whispered threat. Anything that would show that he doesn't appreciate what I do every night, doesn't want me to do every night.

But he just looks at me, realization appearing in his usually cold eyes, and then walks towards the door of the suite, leaving me standing there, staring at the space where he just was.

Confusion washes over me, and with a frown on my face I turn to see him at the door, shoving on his shoes and a light sweater. He catches my eye again, and although I don't see any invitation or offer, I follow him, stepping into my boots and grabbing my brother's jean jacket. Max won't miss it; he just took it along in case.

When the two of us step into the lobby, the elevator ringing annoyingly, we attract strange stares from the hotel clerks. Here we are, two teenagers, still dressed in our sleep-clothing, wandering out of the hotel at two in the morning. Not something you see every day. We ignore them and leave the hotel, still not speaking even as we wander through the streets.

The air is balmy on my legs and hands and I look up into the sky, which is starless. Spain is a beautiful place, I think briefly to myself, then remember that tonight there's no time for scenery. I glance back at Kai, who has a determined look on his face, and try to match it. It doesn't work. I'm too tired to manufacture it and end up just watching him pathetically.

We walk for hours, or maybe only minutes, and suddenly we're both sitting in a small café, and I'm speaking to the waitress – '_Dos café solos, por favor_' - and we both have large cups of black coffee in our hands. I don't even bother to check if I have money or if Kai has money. Right now, it doesn't matter.

Kai drinks his right away, but I stare at it, down into the dark murky depths, the light above us shining eerily in the dark rimmed cup.

'I don't drink coffee,' I think numbly to myself,' even as I lift it to my lips and take a large gulp of the bitter stuff. 'I'm awake enough as it is.'

"You're not who you pretend to be." I glance up at Kai as he speaks the first words of the night to me, then look back down at the cup that I place on the table. I don't know what to say to that, because it's true. I'm not who I pretend to be. I don't even think I am who I'm supposed to me. "You hide everything behind that mask of yours, don't you?"

"Like you?" I reply, my voice hoarse even to my own ears. "The only difference is everyone knows you wear a mask."

We sit in silence for a long while, and he frowns.

"Why?"

"Why not?" I counter. I'm not going to let him know everything about me and nothing about him. Our stoic captain's reasons for anything have eluded me for nearly three years now, there's no way he'll remain all-knowing for much longer. "Why do you?"

He bristles, not liking the conversation being turned back on him.

"Why do you watch me?"

"Why do you care?"

He frowns, his eyebrows drawing over his crimson eyes. They're filled with annoyance and I can see that he knows we're not going to get anywhere tonight continuing on this tangent. Obviously, one of us is going to have to give, and I hope for once he's not expecting it to be me.

He doesn't.

"Because it bothers me," he says, not mincing words. "I don't like people watching me." He looks darkly into the cup, a strange, haunted expression appearing on his face. I know that look. I've seen it hundreds of times when he thinks no one is watching. It's the look he got when we went to the Abbey. It's the look he gets when he thinks about the Abbey.

I take another sip of the disgusting liquid and clear my throat, deciding to answer his question. "I do it because I see things…that make me wonder if you're not just like me."

Now he's looking at me in surprise, a kind of disgust mixing in with it.

"Just like you? Tate, where the hell do you get off thinking we're in any way alike?"

His words should hurt me – hell, they'd hurt any normal person – but I just smile in an empty way and shrug. "You can't sleep."

"And that makes us alike?"

"You're haunted by nightmares," I say softly, not looking at him. "You call out for the dead, for the past. You cry in your sleep for something you've lost and can't get back. You're being held by something that won't let you go, no matter how much you scream and no matter how much you beg. You want release. You want out." I look up now, noting his startled, trapped expression, like I've caught him in a trap and he knows it. I look back down and shrug. "That's just my guess."

"Guess? You know this because you have a sick habit of watching me sleep."

"Not just you," I mutter. "The others too." As if that's any better. "Haven't you ever wondered how they can do it? How do they manage to be at peace at night, when it's dark? I don't understand it."

"Don't you ever sleep?" A question, more wondering than demanding. I shake my head continue to stare at the cup. "Why?"

'_To stem the flow of blood',' _I think to myself. I shake my head again, although this time it's to tell him to back off, not to deny something.

Another pause as the two of us sit in each others company. I realize we're being stared at by two old men across the way. They're smoking rolled up cigarettes and nodding over to us as though we're part of their conversation. I guess it is odd for two teenagers to be drinking coffee at one in the morning wearing nothing but their pajamas. I smile slightly at the picture I think we must make, then look up at Kai, who seems lost in his own thoughts.

"Have you ever…spoken to anyone about it?" He shakes his head, not looking at me, and I nod. "Me neither. No one would believe me."

"Then why did you tell me"

"You would believe me."

"And I'm no one?"

"Just like me," I nod.

He smirks, catching my eye quickly, before glancing back down. "Sounds about right."

I laugh, a quiet trill unlike my usually loud, raucous laughter for whenever Miyami's around. This is how I really laugh, but I needed some way to keep people from looking to far beneath the surface. Kai stares at me in surprise and I smile grimly. Obviously, he's surprised. "You never answered why you wear a mask."

"You first."

We look at each other, challenging each other. I decide to bite, after all, he spoke first before, and it's only fair I speak now. "So people don't learn how fucked up my mind is. So they don't start giving me anti-depressants and having me see a shrink. So they don't lock me away." _'So they don't lock me away with only _her _to keep my mind busy. So that she can haunt me every night when they make me sleep.'_

He nods. I've noticed that neither of us has looked at each other once in the face for more than ten seconds since we got here. It's as though any of these admissions are shameful, like if we don't look at each other, we're really not hearing one or the other.

I wait expectantly for him to tell me his reason, and after an eternally long time where I believe he won't, he says in a low, monotone voice, "Because when people see you on the inside they learn everything and it can break you."

I nod now. Ironically, we're both afraid of the same thing. Being hurt. Then again, with what I had to endure and what he probably had to endure, there's no telling how much our souls have been rent apart in our pasts.

I feel dawn's rays streaming across the little buildings and I look at Kai. "What about practice today? Shouldn't we be getting back?"

"Cancelled," he says simply, looking outside now as well. "I left a note."

I frown. "I didn't see you leave one."

"You were too busy staring in shock that I knew you were there," he replies simply, digging into his pocket and tossing a few Euros on the table. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" I ask, ignoring the jibe at me being stunned. I follow him from the café and into the street.

"You tell me. You're the one that speaks Spanish."

"Smart ass," I glower at his back, but for once it isn't an annoying, fed-up one where I glare daggers at his back. Now it seems more comfortable, more amusing. "I've never heard you say so much in one sitting."

"I've never heard you say so little."

We glance at each other for a long while. With that it seems that we've suddenly, after three years of me baiting him and him ignoring me, we're on the same ground. Despite having spoken still little about ourselves, we're both wary as to the other one. Trust seems to be new to both of us.

I smirk. "I have an idea where to go."

* * *

Sorry for the wait guys, I lost my outline and only just found it. Hope you enjoyed! 

Ciao!

KuriQuinn


	4. Freundschaft

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade.

* * *

Chapter Four: Freundshaft 

I won't lie and say that I'm at ease with her right away. In fact, even after the waves between us change and we walk out of the café together, I still feel the need to keep myself at a distance from her. I'm perfectly justified, after all, because she hasn't even begun to tell me anything. Even her answers before were guarded and vague, as though saying too much would undoubtedly give everything away. Much like me.

We walk down the street in a thick silence, and unlike when we're in a large group, I don't expect her to talk and joke to try to fill the quiet.

People all around us are talking rapidly in Spanish. They would, considering we're in Madrid, but it doesn't stop me from wishing more of them spoke Japanese or English. Even Russian would be more helpful. I glance at her from the corner of my eye, watching her take in the conversations with amusement, sometimes shaking her head. Even years ago I had known she was useful to our team, especially when we ended up in France and Germany. She played the part of the happy-go-lucky translator the entire time.

I frown. Was she faking it then, too?

No. Even though I knew she was guarding some secret, it wasn't to the same degree as it is now.

We approach a bridge over a narrow strip of water, and stop briefly. She glances out, as though taking in the sight, and then turns back to me with a grim smile on her face. She's about to say something, when one of the passersby sidles up to us. "Ustedes tienen un alumbrador?" (1)

He has an unlit cigarette in his mouth, so I figure that he is asking for a lighter. I shake my head, ready to continue on, but to my surprise, she digs into her boot and tossed him one. The man lights up and tosses it back to her, thanking her it seems. He gets ready to leave. I can't help wondering why she would have a lighter on her.

The answer to the question comes when she speak again, to the man. "Usted tiene un cigarillo?" The man raises an eyebrow, but digs into his pocket and flicks open a box, allowing her one of the cigarettes. "Gracias." (2) (3)

The man leaves and I watch her fix the rolled up paper between her lips, flick it into flame with the lighter and take a deep drag.

It's a disgusting sight, to tell you the truth. I don't understand what people see as so attractive in smoking. It rots your lungs and makes you smell like cheap sex and smoke. I can't help but be disappointed in her when I see her inhaling deeply. My grandfather smoked every day of his life, and the picture she makes right now reminds me of it. She notices me looking at her and cocks her head to one side as though to ask what's up. I shrug."Never knew you smoked."

"Not usually," she replies, walking off again. I have no choice but to follow her. "Just on…bad nights."

I don't ask about what she means. "When did this start up?"

"None of your business," she replies easily. "Look, I don't need you to tell me that it's bad for me. I listen to reports and all that other crap. I know what it's doing. Ruining my heart, destroying my lungs…killing my body. But what's the point? My mind is dying anyway, might as well even it out with the body too."

I stop walking and a moment later so does she.

"That is the stupidest shit I have ever heard come out of your mouth, and I'd prefer it if you never insulted my intelligence with that crap again."

"Why? It's true," she tells me bitterly. "Or is it just that you have something against me smoking?"

"No, not you smoking. I just don't approve of it."

"Well screw you, I can do what I want," she rolls her eyes. "What, have a bad experience or something?"

"Look for yourself," I roll up the hem of my sweatshirt, showing her the skin of my chest and stomach. Her eyes widen, as does her mouth and the cigarette falls to the ground, rolling off of the bridge and into the stream.

"Are these…"

"Yes."

I know what she's seeing, and that she's seeing them with disbelieving eyes. I've never shown anyone these scars, let alone any others. It's hard to believe they're even there. I can remember when I was little and angered my grandfather, way before the abbey. Whatever exposed skin he could get at, he burned deep holes into my skin with the smokes, as though burning a lesson into it. I can still remember the charred smell of my own flesh.

I'm surprised when her fingers reach out and are suddenly skimming over the scars. I shiver and put my sweater down again, a guarded look appearing on my face. I can see total sympathy in her eyes, but I don't want that. I don't need sympathy or pity, and I tell her that.

"It's not pity," she says darkly. "I never said, 'oh poor Hiwatari, boo-hoo'." She pauses, her eyes shining with something. Anger, I think. But why would she be angry about something she had nothing to do with? "Who would do something like that to you?"

I debate about saying anything, and then decide not to, shrugging. "What does it matter? I guess it just proves your theory about if the mind is sick, the body should be too."

"Hiwatari, I didn't mean – "

"Save it." I stare across the street, seeing what looks to be a graveyard. It looks calm and quiet there, where no one else walks. As though sensing my gaze, she walks towards it with a familiar stride, walking the ground as though she knows where she's going. At the gate she looks back and motions me to follow. There's nothing else that I can do. I shrug and do as she bid.

As soon as the gate closes, I can't help wondering if she's been here before.

"I didn't mean that what I do should justify…something as horrible as that," she says quietly. "What I meant was…just…" She breathes and I feel her seem to give up.

She has come closer and is looking me right in the eye, as though what she's about to say is the thread that keeps her living. "Ever since a little before the Russian Tournaments in our first year as a team, I've been having nightmares. And not the ordinary type. They…they scare me because they're so clear. They're not just random images. They're real, as though they're actually happening. Every night, the same type of dreams. And I can't help thinking; only someone with a very sick mind would come up with the things I see every night." She looks at me seriously, her eyes shining dark and solemn in the first light. "I don't know how many times I've thought about just ending it all. I don't know if I'm to chicken to go through with it or too chicken not to go through with it."

We watch each other for a long moment, and her face seems to be filling with panic, as though what she just told me makes her a horrible person. I know how she feels. She's exactly like me, not wanting to show that she has something wrong with her. It seems as though we're both trapped in some depressive state, but I don't know what's driving her to hers. She doesn't look like she has ever been physically abused and I highly doubt she was put through the same mental strain and abuse that I was.

"What are these nightmares about?"

Wrong thing to say. I see a large shadow of fear shimmer in her eyes, as well as pain and sadness. I've never seen any of these emotions in her, and truthfully, it scares me to see them. Her eyes are darker than usual.

"I'm…I can't tell you that."

I nod, not pushing it further. We've begun to weave through the graves, some with headstones that are small and light, others with large headstones that cast dark shadows on the ground around us. We're about half-a-kilometer away from the gate when I speak next. "I understand."

She looks up, somewhat surprised.

"Sometimes I just don't want to be living anymore. I see places like this and think that maybe there is a possibility of finding peace sometime," I look around at the graveyard. "But then I remember what a waste it would be to kill myself now. It would be like walking right into their hands." I think of Voltaire and Boris.

She doesn't ask who they are, but to my surprise, I find a small hand holding onto mine. She looks serious, and for the first time in months, I see the beginnings of a genuine smile on her face. "You have too much potential to do something like that, Kai. No matter what inner demons you have, they can't be like what I see. I know somehow, someday, you'll be able to get away from whatever nightmares that chase you. And you're going to do something good. So you can't give everything up yet."

We stop, and our hands are still linked. "What about you?"

She frowns, looks away, and then looks back. "Right now, I'm not the one that matters."

I don't push it. I'd rather not argue with her today. Besides, if what today has done for us holds, I might be able to convince her otherwise, and understand what it is that scares her so much.

Her words, although I don't agree with them, make me feel a slight bubble of hope within. That's new. Hope has never been an issue with me, and yet when she said those things, it appeared as though I had called it to me. Maybe it's just the fact that another person can see me for who I am and expect something of me that doesn't include death and destruction. I know the others think I'll end up as an axe-murderer, and yet here is one of them telling me she thinks I'll amount to something.

She tugs on my hand and I'm looking down at her again, our faces very close. "I'm…glad you could show me what you did. You never say anything about your past. I'm glad you trust me."

I don't reply, studying her face at its close proximity. I notice the bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep. She always manages to hide it beneath make-up, but not tonight.

What did she say? Trust? Do I actually trust someone other than myself?

She smiles sadly at me, and turns back to the gate, not wanting to go further. I watch her form retreating and am perplexed to see that her shoulders are hunched and she seems to be shaking.

Just another tortured soul.

Just like me. If I hurt her, it would be like hurting myself, and vice versa.

I feel the muscles in my face pull into a grim smile.

I think I do trust her.

* * *

(1) Do you have a lighter 

(2) Do you have a cigarette?

(3) I do not condone smoking and think that it is the worst habit in the history of the world, right up there with war and Bush. If you are readingmy fics and want to be like Chaya (though hopefully you don't, because she can get annoying and weird) do not start to smoke because you think it's cool. It's not. It's stupid and I think anyone that does is an idiot and slowly committing suicide. My writing it into this fic had to do with the plot, not with the character.

HOPE IT WAS A GOOD READ FOR YOU GUYS,

KURINESS


	5. Niemand

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

* * *

Chapter Five: Niemand 

I know I shouldn't blame Max for this big mess, but if he hadn't been fooling around with Takao, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't be on his way to the hospital to get those two broken fingers that he'd pretty much shattered in the door fixed, and Takao wouldn't have fainted at the sight of those fingers hanging out at the unnatural angles and I wouldn't be standing before the beydish ready to face off against the last opponent in our block.

And for once it's all up to me.

Damn it.

I don't like the idea of having everyone's expectations riding on my shoulders. I don't want this to be an excuse for me to lose myself to the inner high that always comes. It used to come to me only when I called out for that damn spirit. Now it's like I have no choice. Sometimes even during the day when I'm susceptible I lose myself.

I shake my head. I don't like this at all. The tension and the sudden calm are frightening.

Kyoujiu, Rei and Kai are sitting behind me on the bench; everyone except Kai cheers for me to finish this quickly. I'm not surprised that Kai doesn't speak up. I'm not disappointed either. I know for a fact that he's just as intent on me as the others. Maybe more. I feel his eyes boring holes into the back of my neck and suppress a shiver. It's unnerving to have an unwavering stare directed at you, especially from behind.

"Hey, little girl, you sure that this ain't a bit too tough for you?"

The kid is heavy set and younger than me, despite being over a head taller. His eyes bulge out and his voice is cracking. His bravado over this stupid game is making me sick. It's no fun to laugh at his pathetic antics anymore, it's just boring. Why the hell do I continue to play this game?

A black flash sends a series of little thrills through me.

Oh yeah. That.

"Opponents, step into the ready position," the unknown, unimportant voice of the DJ announces. "Three! Two! One! Let it rip!"

I don't remember launching the blade, but my hand has the long flaming red imprint of where the rip-cord pulled by and my hands are empty, grasping at the air. I hear the clatter of the launcher in the back of my head, watching the two flashes of plastic smacking up against each other before me. Rei and Kyoujiu are shouting encouragements at me, while the bulky kid before me tells me how washed up I am. Some things never change…

The black blur of my blade is taking a beating, but I don't react. Not to the taunts or the knowledge of loss. I wait.

The pause is like the calm before the storm. All the sounds around me fade and the kid's mouth is a gaping, moving hole. I can't even feel the vibrations below me.

A shock smacks through me and I feel the first ripple deep in my bones. My blood is churning with an electrifying power and I feel my head through backwards. My mouth is parted and I inhale sharply as a wave of sweet release explodes around me.

I feel like I'm watching the match from above, as the black flash doggedly attacks the other blade, each revolution propelling me higher and higher. Is it my imagination, or is there a black mist surrounding my world?

No, this has happened before and like then, the mist opens over the most beautiful white light I have ever seen, just like always, and I'm falling upwards. If I reach out I can stop myself, but maybe this time I'll fly beyond and savor the flying, floating feeling.

I don't care about the voices calling my name, or that it is only my blade spinning in the dish now. The kid is clutching the shattered remains of his in his hands, staring at me in a shocked, terrified way.

Well, who the hell cares? I'm beyond that now. The light still beckons…

_'Chaya, fight it…' _

Why would I want to fight it, I ask myself…maybe I actually spoke out loud. Probably. The soft voice is speaking again.

_'You can't let yourself be pulled away just yet.'_

Kai. Why is Kai speaking to me?

He's not, though. When I gaze at him from the place beyond the vale of black mist that's holding me, I see that his lips aren't moving. But I know his voice and I still feel his eyes burning into the back of my head and I remember his understanding. Am I hearing his thoughts?

It wouldn't surprise me. I know my other side as I've come to call her can read minds. But then, how can I do it? I'm the just the lowly mortal…

_'I'm like you. I'm nobody. Don't leave me alone.' _

The jolt back into my body is more painful than anything. You'd think having your soul ripped out of your body would be painful, but it's pushing it back into place that kills and makes you feel like dying. I feel as though I've been stretched and poked into a small bottle; it rips through me and I feel my eyes water and my knees buckles. The bile rises in my throat, but I managed to keep it down.

I feel all that emptiness and fear well up inside me again, the tremendous feeling of loss drowning me.

People are cheering and Rei is holding me up, congratulating me and fussing over me, but I don't care because I'm looking at Kai thankfully despite my pain. He's looking back, confused, and it heightens when I abruptly pull away from Rei and hug Kai around the neck, the way I'd hug any of my close friends, or even my brother. My knees are still weak and it's more of a fall into his arms than a hug, but to my total surprise he tightens his grip in return.

He doesn't say anything, and no one else does either.

I'm high again, but more on sudden happiness than the spiritual power that I just gleaned off of, beating down some poor kid's dreams.

My god, I need a cigarette.

But it can wait until later. I can see Takao and Max bumbling down through the bleachers, my twin's arm in a heavy cast. He must have really done a number on his fingers to have to get the entire forearm cast-ed…he's grinning at me and I instantly feel horrible for wanting to do something that would make him look at me in disgust. I hate when I do things that if Maxie knew about would break his heart…

Daitenji-san is proposing a celebration back at the hotel and Kai is still steadying me, and I'm dizzy, but I don't care. The cheerful, plastered smile is back on my face as I go on about some over-confident, know-it-all, winner bullshit that everyone expects of me. I'm being a led away, and a part of me begins to yearn for the floating again…

(-)

The suite looks like a tornado hit it. Max is playfully hitting Takao for writing crude messages on his cast, who just grins winningly and pushes his hand out of the way to continue on with his 'work'. Kyoujiu played the rebel and smuggled a six-pack of beer into the room for after Daitenji-san returned to his suite down the hall. He left Kai in charge. Kyoujius and Rei are piss drunk, and Rei's gyrating to the music he put on. It's by some hard-rock band that I know, but can't think of the name of at the moment.

I still feel lightheaded, but oddly content. Usually, after a match with Zorn, I feel moody and depressed, emotionally drained. For some reason, tonight is different, and I hardly even feel the longing…

I guess it's because of Kai. That's the only reason I can come up with, considering he was the only thing that was different for me today.

Speaking of, where is Kai? He said he needed to take a shower. But it doesn't even take me that long to bathe, and he has much less hair than I do and doesn't have to preoccupy himself with "smelling pretty" as Max calls it.

I decide to check on him, even though I know that he'll probably shoot him for me getting in the way, or poking my nose in his business. We may be a little closer, but we're not the best of chums, as he might put it.

Steam rises under the bathroom door, so I guess he's still in the shower. I smirk and decide to tease him about girly habits or flush the toilet on him while he's in the shower like I usually would.

My hand turns the doorknob, which is left open to my surprise. Usually he locks it and I'd have to pick the lock. A blast of heat hits me moments before the images do.

I see the dripping crimson pool against pale skin, the gash, a gaping wound. I register Kai's shocked and panicked expression, before the dizziness clouds it all and I feel the blood on my hands and in my mouth. The scent is at its highest, making my stomach convulse. I can't just bite my lips and tell myself that this is a dream to wake up, because it isn't. And I can't. I can see the razor poised over his wrist like Damocles' sword, the edge stained with the blood that still flows. But the sight doesn't seem to be making the connection in my mind. Why does he have that there?

The scent is higher and I feel the thickness on my fingers. Looking down, I choke to see the blood coating my hands like some sinister red glove. The dark shadow is back beckoning me from before, but I'm trapped and cold.

Someone's calling my name, but I can't see who it is as I push myself back against the wall, my fingers scraping the floor. My eyes focus on the razor again and images of me plunging it into their skin, over and over until nothing but limp, torn skin remains.

I'm screaming.

Or am I?

I can't truthfully say, even though I can hear someone's voice loud in my mind. Someone who I can't see is holding me in their arms but their touch is masked by the sticky sensation of blood and the crimson darkness that is around me, suffocating me. It's as though there's a wound above me and its trails a curtain of blood through my eyes.

And then suddenly the color changes and instead of crimson, it's all black.

* * *

There's the chapter. R & R please! 

Kuriness


	6. Warheit

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

* * *

Chapter Six: Warheit 

Saying 'if I had known' seems stupid. It seems selfish, as though I'm trying to get the blame to be lifted from my shoulders. I'm surprised I haven't clung to the fact that she shouldn't have just walked into the bathroom without even knocking. I can't though, because she's no more in the wrong than I am. She was no more wrong than I _was_. And because of this series of mistakes and idiocies, she's unconscious in the spare room of the suite, tossing and turning. She was deadly-still for the most part, all while the others and Daitenji-san where here.

I told Kon to take care of practice today, he's more than capable. Her brother wanted to stay with her. He said that he could manage considering he was injured, Kinomiya and Kon managed to talk him out of it before I had to 'persuade' him. They said she's in the most capable hands.

Yes, very capable hands, I think ruefully as I look down at them. Capable and blood-soaked…

They are without their usual gloves. I was lucky that I was able to cover up before the others came to see what was wrong with her. Of course, I had her in my arms when her brother and Kinomiya hurried in to see what was wrong, so they didn't see my scars then – the ones on my arms or on my chest. And they took her from me to the couch, her brother carrying her and Takao running to the phone. I managed to pull on a hooded sweatshirt before joining them again. No one noticed. She was a very useful distraction, no matter how disgusted I feel thinking that.

She moans and turns again, sounding desperate.

I frown.

What the hell scared her so much? I understand that it's not something you see every day, self-mutilation, but I didn't expect her to get hysterical. I expected her to yell and scream at me, maybe punch me for doing something like this.

I've never seen her cry. I've never seen her scream in terror before, or fold into herself, shaking and trying to rub something invisible from her face and hands. Panicked, terrified, pain-filled shrieks and she just kept staring at me.

I glance at the bathroom door.

No ones gone in there since last night when it happened. Everyone left this morning. I think the only reason Daitenji-san insisted was to get her brother's mind off of her episode. The razor is probably still lying in the sink with blood encrusted on it. I'll have to clean everything up before the others get home and ask questions. I'm immensely lucky they haven't already.

Another moan and this time her breathing pattern changes. I glance back up at her, watching as her large brown eyes seem to open painfully and she takes in her surroundings.

"Welcome back."

Instantly it seems like something stupid to say and I want to hit myself for not coming up with anything more polished, but she doesn't even seem to hear me. She pulls herself up abruptly and is staring meaningfully at my covered arms. I see fear in them, then disgust and then she looks at me in a look I can't even understand. Pain? I don't know. But I want her to stop.

"Why?"

Her voice is breathless, and I think of how many questions she just asked with the one word. I settle on what is the most obvious, but don't answer. "I'm not trying to kill myself, if that's what you think."

"I know you're not," she's serious, and I note the hint of anger in her tones. "The question was 'why the hell are you being so fucking stupid and doing that to yourself'?"

"Why did you go into a panic-attack?"

We glare at each other. It's yet another one of those battles where the two of us answer questions with questions.

"Show me."

I jump when she speaks, as though deciding not to pursue the question, but the alternate action is almost as bad. She's looking intently at me, a demanding note in her voice, and a stubborn sparkle in her eyes that tells me if I don't I'm going to regret it. I open my mouth to question her, but seeing the look in her eyes become harder, I shrug and tug off the sweater.

I'm bare-chested, having not really had much time to get dressed since she passed out. In fact, I'm still a mess from before. I never got around to washing the blood from my wrists and arms, and now it's caked onto my skin, a sticky, flaking mass down both arms in a nondescript pattern. I glance at her face again, finding my throat closing a little when I see the pain double in her eyes. Damn it, if she knew seeing this would make her feel horrible, why did she –

I feel as though I've been turned into a statue when I feel my right, mutilated arm being pulled away from me, held at the wrist in her right hand. She's leaning over me, her left hand trailing her fingers up and down the arm, tracing the healed scars lightly, and then pausing above the newest infliction, which is still pink and raw, only just having clotted. She pauses over the horizontal mark at the base of my wrist, and then finds the oldest scar I have. Vertical, and jagged because I had used a carving knife and I had been so small that I hadn't been able to make a clean cut. This had been after the Abbey. After getting out, but before the Bladebreakers.

"So now it's just some sick pleasure?" she murmurs, not looking at me. I notice that although she traced all of the other scars, her fingers padding lightly over them, the new one remains untouched. As does the stain of blood. "Why would you do this?"

"Why else? Because I'm a sick fuck that's suicidal and twisted," I reply coldly, recovering a little and instantly feel guilty about it when she lowers her lashes and lets my arm fall. But she keeps hold of my hand.

"How could you say that when you have so much going for you?"

I need to hold back telling her off. She doesn't know what I've been through. She doesn't know how little 'I have going for me'. She doesn't understand. How could I have possibly thought she could?"

"I understand more than you know."

I look up in surprise.

"Come on, it's on your face," she says coldly, looking away. My hand seems to be burning in her touch, which is strange because her hands are cold, as though they've been holding onto a particularly frigid beverage. "It's you that doesn't understand."

"The only thing I don't understand is why you freaked out like that," I frown. "I'd have thought you'd make a beeline to the medicine box or something. Blood frighten you or something?"

"Only the blood of the people I care about." I shiver at the hollow voice. I've never heard that before. She's shaking again and I reach up to pull her face up so that she's looking at me.

"What do you mean by that?"

I expect her to pull away and bury into herself again. I expect her to tell me it's none of my business, and even less now that I've done something to screw up whatever trust we'd established. I expect her to shudder and finally get up to leave.

I don't expect her to speak with trembling lips, "Do you know how many times I've killed you in my dreams?"

Her gaze is unwavering, searching, as though she's trying to figure out what I think about her words. I don't know what I think. I don't know what to say, so I wait for her to continue.

"Every night it's the same. Every night I feel and smell and taste your blood. And Max's. And Rei's. Everyone that I have ever known, or felt close to. Every night it's a slaughter and I wake up with the taste still there and the smell still lingering," her eyes are vacant as she speaks. "I've watched myself do it in every way, I've been a part of endless scenarios. And it's always the same. But instead of getting used to it, it's like a new pain every night."

It takes me a few moments to realize that this is why she doesn't sleep. It also takes me a few moments to realize that her subconscious will is the death of the rest of us. I must have made a face because she winces as though I've thrown a punch at her when she wasn't looking. "You don't believe me."

"I never said that."

"Your face says you don't."

I don't reply. She's mostly right. I can't help but wonder if she's not just going insane. She has had nothing in her life to cause her pain, no mental anxieties, no physical hardships. The closest thing I can think of that might give her emotional baggage is the public breakdown she had during the American Solo tournaments ten years ago. But that's hardly something that would make her see things like this.

"I won't lie. I would never have anticipated this."

"And I would never have anticipated the seemingly smartest member of the team to have a cutting problem."

I know that's what it is. But the way she says it makes it seem ten times more shameful.

"I can prove it," she says suddenly. "That I'm not crazy."

I stare. I definitely didn't expect this, and despite my curiosity, I have to send her a skeptical look. "How? It's not as though I can see your subconscious."

"Unfortunately, you can," she shrugs. "You among a few others, actually."

"Only a few others? And why's that?" I frown.

"Hiwatari, you understand the massive forces that bitbeasts are, right?" she asks me wearily. I notice once again the dark circles that ring her eyes as she looks at me seriously. "You know that when a sacred beast establishes a connection with a host that they operate as one and hold a bond, right?"

"Obviously." How else would I have been able to over-come Black Dranzer two years ago, if Dranzer and I hadn't been tied together by some incredible force?

"Well bitbeast hosts can connect to each other better than those that don't hold bitbeasts. It's why all of the BBA teams are so close-knit and hard to beat. They all have bitbeasts, and they all train together to form an unbreakable tie."

I don't understand where she's going with this. How does this tie in with proving that she's not crazy?

"You know that the connection I have with my bitbeast is somewhat stronger than most, right?"

That's an understatement. I've seen what can happen when she gets mad, and it's not pretty. I nod, waiting expectantly for her to speak. She's silent for a long moment, and when she looks up, I'm shocked at the seriousness and sense of loss in her eyes. "I've never told anyone this. Not even Max."

It's as though she's testing the waters of taking me into her confidence, and all I can do I nod to show that I understand. Her fists clench as though she's under an extreme burden telling me what she will.

"It's not just a bond. Zorn controls a large part of my conscious and unconscious self."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not responsible for many of my own actions. When my mind isn't focused, she takes control. When I'm asleep. When I'm not paying close attention to my surroundings…and then I'm suddenly drowning in the images again."

"So how does this tell me that you're not…making all of this up?"

She tenses, looking intently away for a moment, and then back yet again. "Through our connection, I can sometimes tap into what she's feeling, and sometimes her abilities."

"Meaning?"

She removes one hand from my wrist and reaches further to my wrist near the freshest wound. She pauses, looking at me as though asking my permission. "This will hurt."

I should probably have asked 'how much?' because one moment I'm watching her wrap her fingers around the raw, pink flesh-wound, and then suddenly I can't see anything beyond a dark film in front of my eyes, as blistering pain rolls through me as though I'm slowly being crushed.

It disappears a second later, although I'm still shaking, and I find myself staring at my hands, which are a pale and sickly white in the darkness, whole and without my scars. I stare around, confused. Everything is quiet, almost too quiet, and the brightness of my skin against the darkness.

There are figures in the distance. They're calling out for someone, and I vaguely find myself moving towards them, my hands outstretched. There's a steady dripping someone, and a wetness on my neck. I feel something within me; a growing apprehension. These people are my colleagues. My friends. Why then, are my hands shaking.

Why is there a knife in my hands?

I can here someone else's voice. A shrill, cold sound that makes me shiver and want to hide, but I can't. I continue to walk towards these figures. Even in the dark I know them. It's the Bladebreakers. They're glad to see me.

Glad, that is, until I whip a wide arc with the knife and am suddenly splattered by their blood. As their screams echo and plead, I try, but can't stop as the voice makes me continue this vicious onslaught. My arms are no longer white, but bathed in blood. It's in my eyes, in my mouth…the scent fills me, making me feel nauseated.

I've lost the knife and am attacking them with my bare hands, suffocating them, breaking bones, my nails ripping long gashes in their arms.

The cruel, cold laughter, the raw power that's driving me…

And suddenly, all is silent, and I look down at me hands. Bathed in blood. Blood that rolls down over my eyes, hiding everything from me.

The hotel suite comes rushing back to me as though I've just been dunked into an icy spring. She's looking up at me in understanding and a little pain, and I glance down at me wrists. The wounds are open and flowing, and when I look back up, she's apologetic. "I'm sorry. But it only works with a connection to someone's life-force. And the only one that was really on hand was…"

She trails off as I nod, still shaking from the scene. I can understand why she would be afraid to go to sleep with visions like that in the night. And what I saw was probably only a watered down version of what she sees.

She tells me of the history of the sacred spirit, of its violent and dire consequences and of how she's been battling it since it was released. How this vindictive, dark spirit is slowly killing her with the visions and premonitions. It explains a lot. Like why she is usually able to discern things before they happen. Her hands are shaking and I find myself holding my own over them.

"Why does this sacred spirit want to torture you?"

She frowns, as though trying to answer me. "I'm not sure. I think in controlling me, Zorn gains a corporal body that doesn't have to depend on my playing energy in a match. Maybe I'm the first host that's been able to stand her for so long."

Somehow I don't believe that's the case, but I don't say anything to her. After what just saw and felt, it's the closest idea we have. But still…

The telephone in the suite rings suddenly, but neither of us moves to get it.

It doesn't seem important to me right now.

Or to her, it seems.

* * *

TBC, 

KuriQuinn


	7. Erinnerung

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

* * *

Chapter Seven: Erinnerung 

I hear him talking and then saying goodbye shortly before the click as he puts the receiver back onto the cage of the phone. I wait for him to come back into the room, rubbing my skin furiously to try to regain some amount of warmth. The aftermath of showing him the dream has left me cold and frail, trying to regain my breath.

I hear water running and then him tapping something methodically against the sink. The razor. He's probably washing it and everything else from the blood.

My suspicions prove true when he re-enters the room, carrying a towel crusted with dried blood in one hand and the blade in the other. It scares me to see his face so emotionless, almost business-like as he bends down and tucks away the razor into his bag. He pauses, and then puts the towel in after it.

I frown.

He looks different somehow.

"No evidence, huh?" I ask, surprised when he looks up, almost in confusion. "I guess you're used to hiding it."

"I guess."

He returns to the task of cleaning up after himself and my eyes wander from his muscular, scar-ridden arms across and down his back. I'm upset when I see more of the burn marks covering the skin there. They're more numerous on his back then on his chest, and now that I'm actually studying them, I see that they aren't the only scars there. Scars that look like gashes that closed up long ago also decorate his skin. One, on his shoulder, looks like it could have been a bullet wound.

What the hell could have happened to him that scarred him up so badly?

"You could just ask. Staring just annoys me."

I jump. I didn't notice that he was aware or me watching him, studying his body.

Oh God, that sounds weird, even in my head. Almost as though I was checking him ou– I stop myself right there and feel my face heat up. I look away, trying to regain myself. "Sorry."

He doesn't reply but stands now, walking towards me. I shift nervously, tucking my legs under me and remain silent as he picks his sweatshirt off of the floor and puts it back on, hiding the scars from the world again. I notice vaguely that it's the BBA sweater we got two years ago.

"That was Daitenji-san," he tells me flatly, changing the subject with a careless ease. He's pretty good at that. "He said that they're on their way back. Your brother's really worried about you. He also said we've been asked to open the Russian Tournaments again this y– "

"How did they happen?"

There's a ringing silence as he realizes that I interrupted him, and I wait with baited breath. His face suddenly morphs from the usual blank, collected frown to something truly frightening. His eyes narrow, suddenly spouting forth thunderous, blossoming wells of emotion that I've never seen before. Anger, pain, hatred, fear…a muscle in his jaw clench and I notice his arms tense. He'll probably ignore the question. Or…he might get angry. Or possibly upset. I don't want that. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean– "

"My grandfather."

My words die at my lips and for a moment I just draw a blank. The sentences reach my mouth unfinished, running into each other. "I don't…get it…all those scars were…your grandfather?"

"All? No," he frowns. "Just the burns."

Burns? The cigarette burns? Those were him? I stare, my jaw feeling like it's unhinged itself. "Why would he– "

"Because he was a sadistic, abusive bastard," Kai says shortly.

"But you're his grandson!"

"Do you really think that mattered to him? All that mattered was that I was a disappointment and happened to be another way for him to vent his anger."

I look down. It still makes absolutely no sense. How could a man look at his own grandson, lean over and press a cigarette into his skin? And at such a young age, judging by how old the scars are. I swallow, trying to relax and recover myself. "And the other ones?"

He doesn't even pause this time. "The abbey."

"Abbey? But wasn't that just beyblading? How did you get– " I stop talking yet again, it suddenly dawning on me. Normal people wouldn't have come to this conclusion, but it's as though I can see it happening before me. "It was…beyblades did that."

He doesn't deny or support it. My disbelief has grown immensely. I know there were some illegal practices going on and that their methods were definitely less than orthodox, but this? This much pain hidden beneath his mask, I don't know if I can handle.

But he has to know that he's not alone. Hesitantly, I lean over, reaching out for him to hold onto his arm or shoulder. I want to comfort him, but I'm not sure how. I remember how he hates pity and pull back just as I make this realization. I settle on the direct approach. "Will you tell me about it?"

He turns abruptly away. "No."

I stare, slightly surprised at his suddenly closed response. "Why not?"

"You have enough of your own shit to deal with. I've given you enough nightmares for one day, and after what I just saw, you don't need anymore." He gets up as though to leave the room.

"Nightmares or not, I'd like to know," I feel my tone softening to almost a breath. "Please? It might help to talk to me."

"Like some shrink? Didn't help me then, not going to help me now."

I feel my temper spark at his stubbornness, a vague flush of something dark behind me. "Where did you get those scars, Kai?"

I never expected that to actually do anything, but to my surprise I hear him sigh and sit down near the door, across from the bed and window and me. One knee is drawn up to his chest and he looks at me with a pained expression. I realize suddenly what's different. The blue triangles that he paints onto his face religiously are gone. I can see his face clearer than usual and his eyes aren't so shadowed. He's actually good looking when he's not trying to look dangerous and untouchable, I decide, although a part of me has known this for a long time.

"I wasn't the best behaved back then."

The dull monotone surprises me more than the idea that Kai was once a misbehaving child.

"The first month at the abbey was the hardest. Not a day went by that I wasn't whipped or beaten. Until I decided to become the best and show them all up."

"How old – "

"I was about five when Voltaire put me in the abbey," he shrugs. "I'd lived with him for a few months before that. He sent me my sister to live with an aunt or cousin. "He pauses as though he doesn't know how to phrase his next words. "The abbey did more than just push training to the extreme. They weeded out the weak and got rid of them."

"Got rid? Sent home, right?"

"Got rid of. Permanently." He looks up at me pointedly. I feel my mouth go dry.

He means dead.

"How did their parents take this? I mean, their kids just don't come ba – " He holds up a hand to stop me.

"To understand, you have to understand Biovolt," he says, gesturing with his fingers. "Excepting the few children who were sent in by their parents, who happen to be partners and deeply involved with the process, the majority were kidnapped and brought in. Which made it easier for us to get rid of them."

I nod at the horrible truth as it begins to make sense, and then suddenly halt. "Wait a minute. 'Us'?"

He takes a long moment, meeting my eyes slowly, and then nods. "As part of our training, we were brought in and ordered to execute the stragglers."

'Execute. Kill. Now without life.'

I'm breathless and my head is pulsing. He is sitting here, practically telling me that he has taken a life. That his hands actually have blood on them. I don't have to ask. He's trying to catch my reaction and when he does, seeing my unasked question, he nods once.

'Oh my God.'

I think I spoke out loud, but who cares. I can't…I don't…holy shit.

I find myself suddenly off of my bed and digging through my bag, my hands shaking notoriously as I search through it. My breathing hisses out when I wrap my hands around my pack of Marlboros, cramming one of the death sticks into my mouth. As I fumble with the lighter I turn around, seeing the disgusted look on Kai's face as I finally manage to ignite it and inhale the smoke deeply.

After a long moment, I exhale in shuddering spurts, licking my lips nervously.

"You done now?" he asks , not impressed. I cough as I inhale again, shaking my head. Done? I haven't even started. "This is a non-smoking suite."

I sit back down, still shaking. "I'm sorry, I just…" I draw in a shuddering breath. "What the hell did these people think they were doing?"

"They thought because they were trying to control the world, that they could play God," he shrugs. "They used tons of performance enhancing drugs to both dope us with so we wouldn't balk during the purges and to test our receptiveness to the power of the bitbeasts that they extracted and genetically modified."

"How long were you in that place?" I take another drag, reaching over to the glass on his nightstand and tap the ash into it. My hand is still shaking, so much so that I end up dropping the entire thing into the glass. I don't bother fishing it out.

"A year or so. Can't tell you everything that happened, though. I think I must have blocked it out. I remember watching a demonstration with Black Dranzer and – well you know the rest."

I nod. We experienced some of Kai's past as a team tow years ago. He told us about ruining the test and nearly destroying the entire compound. I'm sure a large part of him wishes he did. We all know how he was supposed to have become part of Biovolt's team, the Demolition Boyz. Now I'm sure that they were much more than just a quick-spinning beyblade team. They were probably going to be the elite enforcers of Biovolt's rule. "They wanted you because you were the only one that could control Black Dranzer. Right?"

He nods once.

I remember the scars on his back, chest and arms. The ones that weren't made by the whip. I have a feeling they were made by beyblades. It's not a had thing to turn a beyblade into a weapon. In fact, before it was ever a game, it was a tool of war. Just fix the attack ring with blades or even a piano wire and you can slice through skin and possibly bone within seconds, depending on the velocity of your launch.

I've done that in my dreams too.

I slink off of the bed and half-walk, half-crawl over so that I'm sitting right in front of him. His expression is closed, almost challenging me to something. I sit for a moment, almost as though I've forgotten what I wanted to say to him. And then I reach for his right hand and push up the sleeve again. The clean cut scars gleam back at me, a memory. I can suddenly remember walking in and watching him make the cut right before me, the shivers in my spine returning.

For some reason it hurts me that he preferred to hurt himself then talk to us. Or even me. Not that I should, I mean it's not as though we were on speaking terms back then, but still.

I look down at his wrist, which is actually thinner that I would have initially thought, and trace the jagged scar that's cut vertically from almost his palm to partways down his arm, right across the vein. It's the oldest one. Something inside me pains me to ask, but I do. "Just how older were you when you tried to kill yourself?"

Surprisingly, he doesn't take his hand back, but glares down at his hand. "I was seven and I was an idiot," he snorts. "I used a carving knife and nearly cut my hands off."

I don't notice my grip has tightened until he makes a strangled noise and then an amused face directed at me. I swallow and remove my fingers, feeling guilty when I see the five crescent shaped imprints that are my nails.

"The maid found me and called the hospital. Voltaire played it all off as me being the idiot and playing in the kitchen when I shouldn't have been. They saved me, but what happened was when I came to, I had blocked everything out. I regressed back to age five and stayed that way for a long time. Since then the authorities have kept tabs on me and Voltaire, but nothing incriminating was found until two years ago."

We look at each other for a moment and suddenly he's all business again. "I guess we're even now. I've seen your scars and you've seen mine."

At this I find myself reaching forward before I can stop myself and suddenly I'm holding onto him in a tight hug, my face buried in his shoulder as I struggle not to cry.

I wish he hadn't said that. We're more than even, which scares me.

We're the same.

I don't know how long we stayed in that position, or when I drifted off, but suddenly I'm waking up and I'm alone in my bed, blinking into the darkness. And it's Max, not Kai that's leaning over me to watch me. I ignore his questions as to how I'm doing and stare at the wall. So much pain between the two of us…and it's the only safety net that we have.

* * *

FINI! For this chapter, anyhow. The next one will be up soon. I hope…

R & R please,

Tsu!


	8. Vertrauen

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

* * *

Chapter Eight: Vertrauen 

There's a searing heat all around, assaulting me from all sides. I feel myself struggling for breath against a dense, thick mist and all I can see are the bright, violent flames. Someone speaks in harsh, breathing tones in a language I don't understand. I hear the flicker and snap of the flames and feel myself wince.

_'Mat'…' _

A scream of pain and I feel the compulsion to cry as agony burns my skin.

_'I don't want to do this…please stop…don't make me...' _

A thundering roar rushes towards me, louder and louder the closer it gets and as my eyes open, thousands of faces stare down at me from the stands.

" Russia would like to welcome back the Bladebreakers!" the announcers' voice roars over the crowd, and then repeats himself in broken English and Japanese. Kinomiya is waving like mad, while Tate laughs in embarrassment as usual. Kon is grinning sheepishly, even though everyone knows how much at ease he is in crowds. I feel Chaya suddenly grip my arm tensely as she looks around with the usual fake smile on her face. I nearly allow the edges of my mouth to tug into a smirk. I know she doesn't like crowds. Her claustrophobia has grown as though now, merely the thought of being close in makes her sick.

As we approach the center of the stadium, the representative from the Russian consulate holds out his hand to greet Tyson.

The consulate has funded the Beyblade World Championships since Biovolt was placed under investigation two years ago. The boys in the abbey were released to orphanages and foster homes, although sometimes they were returned to their families if they could be located. In the Demolition Boyz case, they were into protective custody where the authorities are now attempting to counteract the brainwashing process that Biovolt used on them. My grandfather was arrested and Boris Balkov disappeared mysteriously. No one's seen or heard from him since, but he as been the subject of the cases my lawyers bring to my attention whenever I have to give information regarding either him or Voltaire.

"Are you okay?" I glance over at her, noticing that her eyes scan the stadium before resting on me again. "You looked a little weird there for a moment."

I shrug and look away. Since that day two weeks ago in Madrid I've avoided her as much as I could, or at least avoided talking to her directly. I try to tell myself that it's because might start opening up to her even more than I already have; she might discover more about me than I ever intended her to. More than even I know. I don't want to see that pained, sick look in her eyes again, like the one she had when she found out the reason behind my scars.

And that's what scares me the most; that I'm actually scared for her. That I actually care.

I jump as she grabs at me again, this time her hand finding my own, and giving it a squeeze before pulling away and greeting the consulate cheerfully. I feel as though I've been turned to stone for a moment. All the feeling in my limbs has drained away, before rushing back. I only recover just in time to incline my head in the consulate's direction, acknowledging his greeting.

I barely listen as he says something about us opening the tournament tomorrow, news that is received by the crowds with loud cheers. As he waits for them to quiet down I hear him mutter something under his breath in Russian about how tedious his job is, and who cares about a stupid child's game anyway?

I shake my head, feeling amused despite everything.

After he begins a long, useless lecture about how honored Russia is, and how everyone is looking forward to the beyblade matches. Takao might actually have fallen asleep on his feet, from what I'm seeing, and the only reason he hasn't fallen over is because he's being held up by Tate and Kon, whose eyes have glazed over in boredom. Only the shrimpy brainiac is listening in rapt attention, trying to catch every word the man is saying – no doubt wanting to brown-nose around later on.

Finally he makes his closing speech and dismisses us.

The others wake up and are just as energy filled as before. The cheers are loud again as we walk back towards the parking lot where we should be met with a car supplied by the BBA. I trail behind the others as usual, really not bothered like the others about having to sign autographs and exert myself for fans. I doubt I even have any, other than those crazed girls with way to much time on their hands but to trail after the anti-social type. According to Chaya, there are tons of them, but I have yet to have anyone approach me.

Kinomiya laughs loudly, saying something pigheaded and over-confident again, looking like an over-fed bulldog. It makes me wonder yet again why –

At the front, where the barriers keeping the crowds at a distance are located, a group of kids jump into the way, waving autographs and newspaper clippings, even the odd beyblade. This prompts the rest of the mob to follow them and before we can do anything, we're surrounded by countless screaming fanatics, waving pens and pictures with our faces on them. Flashes from cameras blind me wherever I look and the spit from the open-mouthed idiots hit my cheeks.

I push faceless bodies away, calling out something. It takes me a few moments as I battle the crowd to realize I'm calling for Chaya. I'm not surprised this time, nor do I question it. All I can think of is that this situation must be grating on her.

I'm being elbowed and prodded by the masses, and someone's manicured fingernail narrowly misses my eye. Stupid people. What the hell gets them so worked up over a game of spinning tops?

With a groan of frustration, I duck downwards, hoping to escape some of the frenzy and regain the ability to breathe again. Balling my hands into fists lest they get stepped on by someone, I scan through the sea of legs for an exit of some sort. Going towards the car is obviously not an option right now, considering how dense the crowds are there.

In my search, I catch sight of a flash of blond through the numerous legs. Something in me seems to expand when the person moves again and I recognize Chaya's crouched form. Thankfulness, maybe? Who cares? Her legs are folded into her chest and she's tucked her head into her knees as though to hide herself from the masses. Even from here I can see her shaking, probably trying to breathe. I have to help her out of here. The ground is cold, even to me, but she's sitting on it. She could get more than a chill from that…

I don't know how I manage it, but somehow I can crawl through the frenzied crowd, not really caring when I push a body to their feet. I'm at her side, a strange heat pulsing through me. I don't hesitate, and wrap my arm around her shoulder. Just as she looks up at me, a look akin to relief, I pull her to her feet and remain with her in a crouched position.

"Get ready to run." I tell her, surveying the crowds. I narrow my eyes, searching for an opening or at least a less dense gathering of people.

She's yelling above the noise, close to my ear. "Where to?"

I spot a place where there a no more than ten people hanging about, trying to catch pictures. That's as good a spot as any. Instantly, I move, half-pushing, half-dragging her in that direction. "This way."

Voices in every language possible are loud in my ears and behind the crowds I can see a vast space of street…and traffic. It's stopped, but according to the light, it won't be for long.

I speed up, pushing us from the rabble and straighten up, hardly giving her time to do the same before I'm dragging her by the hand across the street. Behind us, I hear those crazed lunatics utter their discovery of our escape. Thankfully, before they can follow us, we're across the street and the light changes. The cars begin to drive, traffic starting up again, cutting off any of them that might try to follow.

We don't stop running until we're about four blocks away and she wrenches her hand out of mine, leaning over with her head between her legs. Her hair falls downward, hiding her face, as she tries to catch her breath. Her entire frame is shaking and heaving. Also panting, I notice the sweat beaded on the back of her neck and the gasps of breath that emit smoky vapor in the cold air.

"I…feel like my…windpipe froze over," she tells me as she gulps the air, one hand clutching her throat, the other her side. I don't reply, trying to catch my own breath. "Damn it, Kai, I'm too much of a smoker for sprinting."

"And that's my fault…how?" I pant back. She looks up with a grin, and then a strained, breathless chuckle.

For a moment we don't talk. I listen vaguely to the pumping of the blood in my ears, feeling the cold air attack my heated face and hands as the circulation returns to normal. I glance around. We're on a busy street filled with shops and restaurants, people everywhere all at once. Thankfully no one seems to notice myself of the girl next to me. I glance in the other direction, just to confirm my bearings, and then nod. I know where we are. I realize that we're on Tverskaya Street, the main street of Moscow, somewhere near the Red Square. We're actually not far from the hotel.

"Thanks."

I glance at her, noting her recovered form. She's standing up straight now, her rapidly rising and falling chest the only proof of our flight from the stadium. I shrug and look away, suddenly feeling self-conscious for whatever reason. I don't like it.

She pauses, and then asks. "What about the others?"

"They'll be okay," I mumble, still scanning the street. "No one else falls apart like you do at the sight of a crowd."

"Hah, hah," and can almost hear her pouting at me. "But when they figure out that we're gone they'll worry. Especially Max, he – "

I turn, reach over and grab her chin in an effort to stop her from talking. "You know where the hotel is and you're being escorted around by someone who knows the language and the culture – why would they worry?"

She doesn't reply, but instead stares at me strangely, as though she wants to speak but can't. I frown. She is rarely without some kind of comment after I speak, so her silence is unnerving. I am about to break it when I stop. A feeling almost like detachment has abruptly taken hold of me. I'm aware of everything and nothing at the same time. I'm looking down at her and it's as though I can see her through different eyes for a moment. I'm not saying that out of the blue, she's now one of those supermodel beauties that hang around in the media. But I see small, almost unnoticeable things I didn't before. Defined, deep eyes that seem to be the truest feature she has, the most pure part of her and the most tainted. Behind all her freckles her cheeks are full and dimpled innocently. Unlike her twin she doesn't look childish because of these.

I'm confused. Why am I so conscious of her looks? It's not usual for me to even bother with trivialities…

She pulls away, waking me from whatever strange perceptions I've been taken by.

"Guess you got a point there," she says, her face turned away. I'm staring at my hand, which is still in the same position as when I had her chin held in my grasp.

Strange.

She turns back to me, a wide, painfully false smile on her face. "So, you're taking me sight-seeing, huh?"

I blink, a feeling of apprehension coming over me. What have I just gotten myself into?

She grabs my hand and drags me off down the street, so fast that the wind cuts at my face. We stop almost as fast as she pulled me off and she jabs her finger at a sign hanging over one of the shops across the street. "What's that?"

I glance inside. "A pharmacy."

"No, but what's the sign say?"

I narrow my eyes to read the sign from this distance. "Pharmacy."

"No!" she rolls her eyes in exasperation. "In _Russian_."

I can't help but let my confusion show on my face. "Why?"

"I wanna learn," she says. "Teach me."

She's not joking, that's for sure and she's basically ignoring my look of disbelief. "But…why?"

She puts her hands on her hips, a pursed look on her face. "You know, Hiwitari, most girls wouldn't bother with enriching their foreign vocabulary, they'd be getting you to pay for their lunch and shopping bills. The way I see it, you're getting off easily."

She raised a challenging eyebrow and I sigh, looking back at the place. "_Apteka_."

(-)

"I don't get it!" she bursts out as we walk away from the small café. "How do you remember all of the meanings of each little sign-thing?"

"It's really no different from Japanese," I tell her, trying to keep unwearied as I take a sip of coffee. "Actually, it's much easier than Japanese."

"Then how come I can't learn it?" she makes a face and I look away to hide the smirk I know is coming.

"Because there's this thing called 'patience' that you haven't discovered yet."

"Smart ass."

We stop over a bridge, ironically the same one I visited years ago before my search of the abbey. I look down at the water, seeing our distorted reflections in the moving mirror. In it I find my eyes straying towards her face, studying her expression. For once she looks relaxed, a wan smile on her face, eyes unfocused as though she's lost in thought. Usually I would take advantage of the silence to muse over anything, really, but this time I don't. The lull is so comfortable that I find myself preferring to watch her.

What's going on with me? She's never made me look twice at her before, but now I can't help it. I see something different in her every time.

"Kai, what happened to your parents?"

I freeze suddenly. The strange calm that fell over the two of us is broken. In her reflection, the smile is gone as quick as it came. She's looking up at me, her face apologetic. "Sorry. That slipped out. I don't mean to be so nosy, but I couldn't help but wonder why you were even with your grandfather in the first place…"

My eyes rove over her face, taking in every crease, falling on her mouth for a moment. Unlike a lot of girls I've seen, hers are thin and wide, etched into a permanent grin of mischief. Only right now they're not.

"…you don't have to say anything if it makes you uncomfortable talking about them."

"It's no secret," I tell her, trying to speak normally and not in the whisper it attempted to come out in. "They died."

"How?" Amazing. I expected her, like everyone else I met, to apologize for their deaths. I hate when people do that. What do they have to be sorry for? They couldn't have stopped death any better than I could.

"Fire," I say shortly, glancing back down at the water.

We stand in silence for a moment. Something hangs over us and I can sense her questions, but she holds them back. Almost as though she doesn't want to upset me. She's the only person that treats me like this. Like a person, not some brainless animal. She doesn't insult me with stupid questions and statements, but holds back from asking things that she believes would hurt. It's almost as though she cares.

That odd feeling from before is back, making me suddenly expand inside, with some warm force and just as I notice this, I find my mouth open, and I'm talking.

"My mother married my father without Voltaire's permission, and when I was born he practically ran us out of Morshansk – that's where I was born. My parents went to live in Nagoya with my father's family. When I was about three my younger sister was born and my parents notified Voltaire. He flew in about a month later and left the same day," I pause, remembering only strained feelings from that day long ago. "That night our house burned to the ground. My parents died, and my sister and I survived."

She gapes at me and looks away for a second, before she's glancing hesitantly at me again. "Did you find out what happened?"

"No," I feel my fists clench. "The courts lacked the evidence as to what happened and somehow we ended up in Voltaire's custody. After that…you know the rest." I don't bother telling her that I know Voltaire did it. It's a given. And if it isn't…well than she obviously hasn't been listening.

"And your sister?"

"Voltaire told me that he sent her to a nanny and governess to take care of her. Turned out he's sent her to be killed and disposed of." Her hand flies to her mouth at such a force that I can hear the slap of her fingers against her mouth. I hurry to finish the story. "I found out after my last visit to Russia that the guy Voltaire hired couldn't bring himself to do it and ended up giving her to a family member in Belgorod."

She looks doubtful.

I feel the compulsion to convince her. "She's fine. She did lose her sight in the fire, but is otherwise okay."

"How do you know?"

"I've looked into the matter. Daitenji-san keeps tabs on her for me."

"So…you never speak to her?"

"No."

"Ever?" she sounds surprised, that note of disbelief in her voice again. "Does she even know you exist?"

"No. And I'm going to keep it that way."

"Why?"

My jaw works furiously without sound, before I fold my arms and turn to her with a frown on my face. "Because getting involved in something like that isn't a good idea."

"Something like what?" she demands, her voice rising as she mirrors my stance. "Something like family?"

I shrug. "Sure. Whatever."

"How is family not a good idea?" her voice has a shrill note in it. "How is having people who care about you not a good idea!"

I don't intend to answer, but before I can relay that message to my mouth, it's open and I'm speaking again. "Because you can get hurt. And so can the people you care about."

She looks like someone hit her for a moment, before a look of comprehension dawns on her face, to what, I'm not sure.

"I get it. With all that's happened you're afraid of bringing your baggage into a relationship. You think that by avoiding her, you'll keep your sister safe."

"That's not true," I hear myself say defensively, even though it sounds more than true to me.

This girl is staring at me now, her eyes looking more pain filled than the day she saw me cutting myself. A part of me is annoyed and confused. Why is she getting so worked up over my nature? I never asked her to come into my personal life. And a few chilling stories about my past doesn't give her the right to suddenly care so much. If she does, anyhow.

I shake my head and push myself away from the bridge, leaving my coffee cup on the railing. "Forget I said anything. Let's head back to the hote – "

"Don't clam up and don't you dare walk away from me," she says, grabbing my upper arm and forcing me to look back at her. Her eyes are blazing angrily. There's a thin film of moisture over her eyes. Her grip weakens, as does her force. "Please. Don't completely alienate everyone. You'll regret it. You don't have to like I do."

"Like you do? How do you think you alienate people?" I demand.

"Don't you think that if I could have, I would have told Max? Don't you think I would have told someone long ago about what I see every night? I've had to separate myself from everyone and pretend to be this happy robot _thing_ to hide it all from them because I'm afraid to hurt them. I have a reason, and it's a psycho bitbeast that has the power to do more than just win a stupid beyblade match!" She glares at me. "You don't seem to realize that Zorn has the power to destroy life. Possibly more than that. I don't want to find out. And you think your past justifies you seceding from humanity?"

She takes and then sighs. "Your past is your past, Kai. You can't change it, but you can learn from it. Voltaire is in jail and Biovolt's gone. It's time to start living again or you'll end up like me." She looks down. "Every morning I wish I was dead…just to get rid of the dreams and the constant feeling that I'm drowning…"

I take a moment before I speak, trying to formulate the words. "You told me. Are you saying you didn't mind dumping your issues on top of mine?"

"No! I told you because you were the only one who could really understand!" she cries. "And…I wanted to understand you."

I remain quiet, knowing there's more.

"And I still don't – I'm trying and it's hard," she says, almost in a whisper. "Because you don't let people in. And it's only now that I understand why…I just need to know if there's a way to change that."

"I never asked for any of this," I say flatly.

"Well too bad. You've got me now, so you don't have to push people away or do _this_ anymore!" She fingers my wrists tightly, the warmth from her hands searing the hidden scars. "Don't…don't push me away like everyone else. I'm probably the only one that will ever understand."

The silence now is different. There's an awareness of everything around me and suddenly it's nothing but her. I feel a strange sweeping feeling at the back of my mind, almost dizzying in its force. She's looking at me as though she's realized something crucial, and it manifests itself in an almost shocked look on her face. The warmth of her hands on mine spreads all up my arms and completely over my body, leaving tingling sensations. Shivers move up and down my spine and my eyes flick to her lips again. They're parted almost in surprise and before I can think of moving, I already am.

Or am I? Maybe she's the one leaning in, and not me? Maybe I'm just awake and dreaming. I've heard that it's possible…

"Kai…?"

Something's changed, almost within the crisp air around us. Suddenly there is really nothing. Nothing to worry about at all. For one split second I feel the strangest freedom of it all, the detached, almost sleeping feeling with the dreaming quality..

The brush of my lips against hers proves to me that I actually am awake and fully aware. I'm not sure who began it…my eyes are wide in surprise, while hers shut daintily, her long lashes the only thing I can see at this angle. Neither of us makes any more or any less of the kiss and the noise of the street rushes in my ears. There is no warmth or passion, like I've seen in those disgustingly showing, public romps most teenagers engage in. It's more natural, almost by chance though. I can hear the blood pumping in my ears again; the strangest of thoughts taking over…I never knew her lips were chapped like this. They looked soft from afar…

She is the first to pull back, her eyes flying open. A look of intense regret fills them and I'm dazed to feel a twinge of pain. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have – "

"It's fine." I surprise myself, cutting her off, and she goes quiet, still watching me almost doubtfully. "It was…fine."

She is about to say something else, but stops herself and allows a small, not quite saddened smile to appear on her face. "I…'kay."

I look back into the water, which is disturbed by the wind, letting ripples take over the glossy surface, before nodding at her. "We should get back to the hotel before they actually do start to wonder."

She nods, strangely quiet, and loops her arm around mine. We begin our journey back to the hotel, a comfortable, peaceful silence between us and a warmer feeling than any I've felt in a long time washing over me.

Just as we're turning the corner, I have a split-second feeling as though I'm being watched, before we pass behind the building and it's gone.

I wonder…

* * *

There we go, another chapter. Just so you guys no, romance is not the greater part of the story, although in about two chapters it will seem that way...so just hang on and ignore any sap that i unintentionally dish out... 

Ciao for now,

Kuriness

R&R please!


	9. Missbilligung

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takaowho created Beyblade

Note: I'm thinking this will be the only fic updated for maybe..a few days at the most. I'm in the process of adding a chapter to all of the fics I have up here and working on my archive over at MediaMiner. Patience is a virtue only when the author updates regularly, I know…check my BIO for other news...

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Chapter Nine: Missbilligung 

The others aren't back yet when we arrive at the apartment, which leaves us in the same consuming silence that has held us since the bridge.

And that kiss.

Even though I'm thinking of it and saying it in my mind, I still can't make sense of it. Just the fact that it was Kai…it won't click. And he doesn't seem to be bothering himself over it, almost as though its something easily forgotten. Maybe it was and it's just me being stunned that it actually happened that is keeping me thinking about it. I don't know what I was feeling before that. Did I ever have any intention of getting that close to him? No. not really. But something has definitely changed.

No, I'm not going to go and profess my undying love to him because that would be stupid – and it would be a lie. I'm not in love with and I don't love Kai. I don't even think I like him in that way. It almost feels as though I'm stuck in a dimensionless void that I can't get out of because there's no other direction to go in.

I watch him shrug off his long BBA coat, hanging it up without even looking, and head towards the couch. I can't help but smile a little at this. He's one of those people that automatically put things away, without even thinking of the trouble. I guess he was brought up that way. Me? Well…

I glance down at my own BBA coat which is in a pile on the floor and grin sheepishly.

I have to be reminded every once in a while.

The sound of static fills the room and then suddenly there are tinny voices speaking in rapid Russian, cut off as the channels change. I look back to see him sitting comfortably on the couch, flicking casually through the channels as though its something he does every day. I can't help but watch, considering I know it's not. In fact, I've never seen him watch television before in my life. Even on the Oriental Express two years ago he slept through the entire movie.

It's cute.

I feel my face scrunch up.

Cute? Since when can you call Kai cute? Statuesque would be more of a way to describe him.

"Are you going to keep standing there staring at me?"

I try to control my jump of surprise at his flat words. His eyes never left the screen, didn't even flicker towards me to watch out of the corner of his eyes, so how did he know I was staring? I shrug and shake my head. It's Kai. He's probably related to some sort of psychic animal thing that can just tell stuff about you. "What are you doing?"

"Wondering when you started resorting to asking the obvious to start a conversation."

I bristle. "No need to be snarky about it."

What the hell is his problem? He's been snide and cold since we got back here, almost as though he's fallen back into 'glacier-mode'. He still doesn't move, leisurely surfing through the channels, leaning on the arm of the sofa, one leg pulled up and bent at the knees so that he's sitting on one foot, the other dangling to the floor. That's the most comfortable position I've seen him a part of…

"So…why are you watching TV? You never watch TV."

"In case you haven't noticed, no one but Kinomiya ever gets a chance. He's either mindlessly channel-surfing or playing his stupid video games."

I nod, reflecting on the truth in this. He's got a point. The only way to even see one-commercial's length is to hold food slightly out of his reach. And even then, Takao's got this amazing habit of inhaling it in one breath and returning to his spot as if nothing happened. I pause in mid nod and can't help but grin. "Wait…you're mindlessly channel-surfing right now."

Now he looks away and sends me a soft glare, like I've mentioned something unpleasant. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing."

His thumb is paused above the button, leaving the current channel on longer than its predecessors. Some busty woman in a sleek dress is fake-crying at a man, her overly collagen-enhanced lips getting in the way of her lines. It's dubbed horribly and although the words are Russian, I can see her mouth saying in English 'But it's your baby, Micheal…'. I scoff at the soap opera and fix my eyes back on Kai, noticing for the first time that he hasn't even looked away. An unsettling feeling begins to hover over me. "What?"

"Are you just going to stand there watching me watch television, or are you actually going to sit down?"

I'm so surprised I almost don't recognize the invitation, but manage to hide it in time to shrug nonchalantly as I plop down next to him on the couch, pulling my legs up to sit in a pseudo lotus position. "So, what are we watching?"

He shrugs, still studying me. What am I, some kind of lab rat?

I ignore him and try again. "So, what are they saying?"

"Who cares? You can read their lips." Ah, so he discovered that little fact too?

"Then change the channel and find a real Russian show so you can tell me what they're saying."

Even I can't make sense of what I just said and he frowns, almost comically. "That would take away the entire point of watching it, if I had to explain everything to you. Why are you so hell-bent on learning Russian anyway?"

"Because I want to know words. I _like_ languages, remember? They help me get around so the next time I end up in Russia I don't have to rely on a stiff, half-Russian to tell me how boring and horrible Russia is," I tell him with a smirk.

He rolls his eyes. "Then buy a dictionary."

"But then I won't remember! I can't just earn a language from a book – trust me, I've tried. With me, I have to be totally immersed in the culture and hear it all around me," I tell him plainly. "What better way than to have someone who already speaks the language to give me a few pointers?"

"I don't understand your logic."

"Yeah, well, you don't matter," I shift my position so that I'm now sitting on my knees, propped up in front of him, grinning. "So, what's the word for…hm…friend'?"

He makes a face, and then shrugs. "_Drug.' _

"Droog," I repeat, and then laugh. "Somehow, that doesn't sound right the way I said it."

"You're accent is horrible. Why don't you just forget it?" He's looking me up and down, shaking his head and I grin, noticing the almost resigned expression on his face. He's teasing me. I think hell just froze over. Kai Hiwitari is teasing me.

"Because I don't forget things. Next word. What's…" I glance around. "Hotel."

"_Gostinitsa."_

"Gestizza?"

He sends me an unimpressed look. "You're really bad at this, you know?"

"Hah! I'd like to see you try to learn Yiddish then, Russia-boy," I smirk. "Bet you couldn't do it."

"I don't want to learn any other language, and Yid – " he stares. "Why do you know Yiddish?"

I shrug my shoulders. "My mother's family is Jewish. Whenever we went over for holidays I have this batty old Aunt Amelia that insists that we learned at least some stuff. She refused to answer us unless we spoke to her in Yiddish or Hebrew. Max, therefore, never spoke to anyone during Holidays because he got frustrated," I grin, remembering the little details from long ago. "My name is actually Hebrew, you know?"

"Really?"

"Mh-hm."

He looks lost in thought, a strange expression on his face. I can't see beneath it and it makes me worry. I try to think of another thing to say, or to at least find some way to change the silence. I decide to go back to the word game. Only now I decide to change it to the words I've been hearing lately. "Hey Kai, what does _mat_ mean in Japanese, anyway?"

He freezes suddenly, completely tense and it takes me a moment to understand why.

And then I remember.

_Mat_ is the word he calls out in his sleep. The only word. And I'm really not supposed to know that.

He's standing suddenly, looking at me in a way that suggests he's threatened and angry, and I panic, jumping up as well. "I'm – I didn't mean – "

"You knew a lot more than you let on, even before I told you," he says darkly, an ugly look on his face. I mouth incoherently, unsure of what exactly I should say to him. "Just how much though? What else did I say?" His eyes are glinting a dark angry red, the look I've only ever seen on his face when he faces off against people he can't stand. I feel myself shaking and can't even move before he's grabbed me tightly by the arms and shakes me once, roughly. "What else?"

I shake my head, unable to get a clear thought in my mind. His nails are digging into my skin but strangely it doesn't hurt. Not as much as him being angry with me. I swallow, trying to look away from his angry stare, and when I can't I force my eyes shut.

Against my eyelids the room is dark and I feel the shift in the air around him, changing from the crackling intensity it held seconds before to something calmer. His grip relaxes and right when I'm about to pull myself away I'm suddenly being drawn towards him, crushed into his chest as his arms encircle my back and waist. My face is nestled in the crook of his neck and I feel each breath beneath me as he holds me.

I'm shocked, to say the least, and probably wouldn't hear his words if my ear wasn't right against his Adams apple, where I hear and feel every vibration. "I'm sorry –"I inhale sharply at his apology. "– I knew you knew before…we talked the first time. I just didn't know you knew that much. When you said that…it just shook me a little."

I nod against his neck. For the first time I realize why he's so reluctant to remember or partake in anything Russian. Obviously things that are of his past, like his background, hurt him. I clear my throat carefully, not trying to move. His embrace is warm, not what I would have otherwise believed, and safe. Familiar even for some reason. "Just forget I asked."

"No," he shakes his head and pulls away, only releasing me slightly so that I can look up at him. "You asked a question and deserve an answer. Besides, it really shouldn't be such a big deal." He looks as though he's trying to convince himself. "_Mat_ is the Russian word for 'mother'. There's obviously a reason behind me saying it."

And how, I think to myself. No wonder he always sounds so desperate when he speaks the words. He probably remembers the fire…screaming her name…a thought strikes me. From what he told me, though, he was only concentrating on his sister. Why would he be calling out for his mother?

Then again, he was only three when it happened, so it must have been a natural reaction. Imagine, three years old and he saved his sister's life…it's amazing.

I flinch as I feel his hands now on my arms, no longer surrounding me, ghosting over where he had gripped me so painfully before.

"Sorry," he apologizes again. "I didn't mean to do that." He looks away. "You should get some ice or something or you'll have bruises all over the place."

"Oh come on, how big can they be, they're just finger marks," I say, trying to make light of the situation. "No big."

"I know for a fact that I have a strong grip. Trust me, they'll be big," he makes a face. "I'm surprised they don't hurt right now."

Of course now that he mentions it, they begin to throb and I wince. Why did he have to go and do that? I wasn't really thinking about them before and…and…and I just forgot what I was going to say, because he's massaging my arms in the places he had held me tightly, almost as though he's trying to massage the bruises right out of my skin. I feel my lips part slightly as my head tilts back, and my eyelids droop a little. Where did he learn _this_?

My half-lidded eyes fall on his lips and there's this irrepressible desire to kiss him. This time I'm actually thinking about it, and want to do it. It's not like before when it happened just by chance…like some strange wind had pushed us together. This time I want to. I wonder if I did, would he push me away?

He didn't before, but maybe because he was stunned – oh well. I have been known to push my luck. I've made it this far without anyone coming close to killing me, and even if he tried…well, let's just say I didn't suffer evil nightmares for two years now without picking up a little know-how, sick as though it may sound.

Our eyes lock for a moment and I decide to go for it, leaning upwards. For a moment he just watches me uncomprehendingly, questioningly, and I believe that he's just going to stand there, or pull away. I get ready to pull away and go shrivel up and die of embarrassment. But almost as though something suddenly hits him, prompting him to move, he leans forward as well and meets me half-way.

This one's different. This kiss isn't just a spur of the moment, chanceful brush of lips. It's more than that; I can feel the flushed press of our mouths together and his hands gently cupping my arms where they were massaging before. I feel a sort of twitch in them now, as though he's debating within himself as to continue in his task from before. I wouldn't mind if he did, but right now my mind is on a different matter all together.

The immature part of me wonders what's supposed to happen next. What does _this_ mean? When you kiss someone, doesn't that mean that you're _with_ them? But how can that be? I'm sure that any type of romance or relationship is the furthest thing from both mine and Kai's, mind right now. But then again, what is this, if not romance? I'm sure I'd know if something was lust, that's just blatant desire to fuck someone and get it over with. But this…this is something different. I don't want lovey-dovey words and gestures, but how am I supposed to just kiss and walk away as though nothing happens? Maybe Kai can do that, but I don't think that I can.

This battle within me of two sides, one a significantly darker side of me demanding that I deepen the touch while the other steadfastly battles it because it wouldn't be right – not to forget the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing and Kai probably has less. I feel my right hand reach upwards to cup his face, softly, almost not daring to touch him more than I already am.

My rational side is beginning to lose out as I feel a strangled noise trying to escape from the back of my throat while my lips part slightly, my teeth almost nipping at his closed lips when –

WHAM!

"Tate-san? Hiwatari-san! So it's true!"

Kai and I both swivel around, lips still brushing as we watch Daitenji-san stride into the room, followed by the rest of our team, looking at us with a peculiar look of disapproval that was obviously directed at us. For a moment neither of us can move as he just tilts his head to one side as though to say, 'well? What have you got to say for yourselves, while Rei, Max, Kyoujiu and Takao come in and close the door behind them, looking at us in dazed surprise. Daitenji pulls something from behind his back and thrusts it out towards us. Hm, I guess that's an invite to see what he's got. "I had hoped this was just another doctored photo from those infernal paparazzi dogs, but after seeing this…"

Kai releases me, without looking at me once and reaches for the paper, staring at it in a mulled shock. In the brief flash as he pulls it forward to study it, I recognize it as the evening press; although written in Russian I've seen Kai with it enough to know what it is. On the front page is a large, blown up shot of two figures in a deep embrace. It takes a few moments for me to recognize it as myself and Kai.

'Funny,' I think numbly. 'While he was kissing me it didn't seem as intense as it does in that photo…'

"I will tell you now, the both of you, that I find this unacceptable," Daitenji says, his moustache bristling over his chubby, flushed face. The others stand behind him almost meekly and I feel a fleeting sensation of anger that they're just sitting by allowing me to be lectured. "Firstly because of that photograph – what were you thinking, allowing yourselves to be caught on film like that? This story is going to be broadcasted throughout the country before tomorrow morning, just you see! You are supposed to be a professional beyblading team, not a group of hormone driven high school students!"

I refrain from looking at Kai, my embarrassment mingling with anger that sparks up not only from the lack of help my brother and friends are giving me, but that this insignificant man is treating me like I'm beneath him. His words are directed at me, not Kai. Obviously he believes that I am the bad influence here. After all, who wouldn't? Kai is the champion, always well-behaved and responsible teenager. I'm the A-bomb waiting to go off…

"…and on a more personal note, I feel that you two are too young for any such liaison," he continues pompously. "Hiwatari-san, I understand at your age that you wish to build a trusting relationship, but you must remember that you are a year away from being an adult, while Tate-san is still fifteen. A child. I have been asked by her father and mother to watch over her and Max, and that I shall do. I ask you here and now to end whatever little…insurrection you have dabbled in and allow us to continue as though nothing happened. We will simply say the picture was a prank…"

I can feel my blood boiling. This…self-important, beady-eyed, rotund fruitcake thinks he can tell me what to do? I glare at him, feeling anger and shame coloring my cheeks. It's one thing to lecture; it's another to do it in plain view of every one of my friends. I feel a hint of chilling cold spark somewhere at the back of my mind and have to clench my fists on concentrate on the pain to will it back down. "If you'll excuse me for just one moment," I say, the effort to keep my voice level and cordial almost painful in my throat. "Who the hell died and made you supreme dictator of the world? Just because my father gave you the role of guardian over Max and I, does not mean you get to decide what we do around here? And for god's sake, make it at least sound like that's what you care about and not some stupid bad publicity that you might get from us."

Daitenji seems to puff up like an over-stuffed peacock and Max speaks up, almost hesitantly. "Chaya, we're just watching out for both of you and – "

"It is inappropriate, this arrangement you have," Daitenji interrupts my brother, recovering himself. "It has come at a most inopportune moment. After these tournaments are over and we are back in Japan, by all means, go ahead, but at this time you should not only be concentrating on your practice and training, but on your behavior."

I suddenly realize why he seems to be so adamant about this and smirk, feeling my face arrange itself into the same way I've seen Kai do a hundred times. "If you're so worried about us possibly fucking each other you're way ahead of yourself, old man."

Everyone looks stunned, although whether it's from the idea or my choice of words, I'm not sure. Daitenji-san sputters, looking like he swallowed a lemon, while the other guys seem to turn an interesting shade of pink. I still have to keep from looking at Kai, almost afraid of what expression I'll find there. Maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he does. I don't know. I don't want to know. Yes I do. But I don't look up all the same. Dickinson coughs and narrows his eyes at me. "You will do well to watch your language and learn to respect your elders, Tate-san."

"Yeah? When you start respecting me back!" I snap. "I'm not a child anymore! I may be fifteen, but the last time I checked, the age of consent is fourteen. And like I said before, I'm not stupid enough to do something that serious! I like being friends with Kai more than anything and if this screws it up I don't want any part of it. You, therefore, have no business in mine! So leave me alone! I know what I'm doing and damned if I don't deserve some happiness after what I put up with from you people over the past two years!"

There's a long silence, that almost rings. I feel my breathing, panting, and the blood rushing to my face.

Daitenji sighs, looking resigned to something. "I will be contacting your family, Tate-san, where we can discuss a few new arrangements. Until then you are banned from trips outside and the next exhibition match."

Jerk.

"Fine, see what I care?" I whirl around, although I keep looking back over my shoulder at the old man. "But when you talk about arrangements, it better not be trying to ship me home, because it says in my contract you can't do that unless you want a major law-suit on your hands. Oyasumi ne."

I finally turn completely around, meeting Kai's gaze for the first time since everybody walked in. He looks surprised by something, possibly awed. I have the urge to pull him into one of those movie-cinema kiss, the deep and exaggerated kind, just to piss of Daitenji, but I doubt Kai will appreciate that. And I'm not the type to do something so spiteful and immature. At least not when it comes to this kind of thing.

And I meant what I said. That if this weird…'ship' that we're in comes anywhere close to breaking our friendship, I'll drop it like a burning coal. I've never had someone that's understood the dark parts of me. And that's almost as important as someone that has every other thing in common with you.

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TBC

KQ


	10. Absinken

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah) Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

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Chapter Ten: Absinken 

It's been about an hour since the shit hit the fan, as Chaya would say, and I don't think that I've ever felt more uncomfortable than the right now. Well…I probably have, but none of these moments will come to mind at this moment. Kon, Tate, Kinomiya and Hagoshimi keep sending my glances filled with surprise, unease and once in a while sympathy. Which is basically the same thing as pity and that annoys me to no end.

I manage to give a good front of ignoring them and their looks as Daitenji-san relays every single unacceptable deed that I've committed, although I know he's not even saying half the amount of things, or a quarter of what he's going to say to Chaya when he gets to her. I let my mind wander a little, remembering what she said before she stalked into the room.

_'…I'm not stupid enough to do something that serious! I like being friends with Kai more than anything and if this screws it up, I don't want any part of it…I know what I'm doing and damned if I don't deserve some happiness after what I put up with from you people over the past two years…!' _

I wonder how much of that is true, and find myself relieved at the words. She doesn't want to jump into anything either. This is relatively good news for me, considering I'm still hardly even sure of my relationship with the girl, let alone whether I want to actually give it a name or just plead ignorance to the entire thing. I've never been a part of something like what Daitenji called a 'relationship' and it makes me uneasy.

"…And I hope that will make you clean up your act, Kai," the old man bristles, concluding the lecture that I didn't hear a word of. "I expect your usual outstanding behavior and leadership in the coming days."

I nod simply, once, meeting his eyes. He takes this as a sign that I've completely acquiesced to everything he just said, and puffs up like some sort of peacock.

"That being that," he clears his throat. "I'm going to retire to my room – I hope you are all in bed by the curfew, I trust I don't have to check in on you?" He adds this in an almost patronizing tone, and I stopper the stab of anger that threatens to escape, remembering that technically he has reason to be wondering this, what with the less than eloquent terms Chaya used earlier. I nod once, again, and he smiles, pacified. "I hope to see you all in top shape tomorrow. Good night, chaps."

I remain seated on the couch in the living area, listening absently at the footsteps and then the door closing. Kinomiya and Chaya's brother are huddled a little ways off looking as though they're talking about something, while Kon is leaning up against the door frame. For a long moment, nobody talks.

I should have known that was too good to be true. I should have expected it to be Kinomiya that breaks the silence.

"So…" he begins calmly, the word hanging in the air. He coughs and then grins at me. "Is she any good?"

He's promptly smacked rather forcefully upside the head by Tate, who glares at his friend. "That's my sister you're talking about, baka."

Kinomiya babbles, holding the injured side if his head tightly. "Oh, right. Sorry, Maxie, I keep forgetting. You guys are so different that I forget sometimes!"

"We're twins, you idiot!"

"Yeah, well…"

I let their babbling and droning tune itself out, and ignoring Kon's questioning glance, I stand and leave the room, having absolutely no intention of spending any more time with the team.

That is, until I notice a rather blond head duck back around the door of her room. After a moment, she slinks back out, dressed in a heavy sweater and carrying a small bag that might hold her passports and money. She winks at me and motions her finger to her lips, indicating that I should remain silent. I glance back into the living area for a moment to make sure the others are still there trying to debate the mysteries of Chaya and me, before looking back.

She's already crept across the foyer and is shrugging into her winter BBA jacket, not breaking eye contact with me the entire time. For a moment I pause, and then recognize the challenge hidden in those dark brown depths. She wants to see if I'll disobey Daitenji's orders or go rat her out. A very large part of me tells me to do exactly that, that she is a part of this team and should not be willingly flaunting rules just because we happen to trust each other a little more than we ever did.

On the other hand, as I watch her slip towards the main door and slowly turn the knob so as to not make a noise, I can't help but want to go with her. She's now glancing around in the hallway for any sign of trouble, and then is in the hallway, cocking her head to one side as though to ask, 'Well? Are you coming?'

I barely even notice that I've moved and that my coat is in my hand, and she's suddenly slowly closing the hotel door. And then I'm being hauled down the hallway as noiselessly as possible towards the stairs, because waiting for the elevators probably takes too long. I can hear her trying to keep her giddy laughter down at its breathy tone, but the closer we get to the stairwell door, the more uncontrolled it's getting. Luckily we manage to get the door shut before she begins to absolutely cackle with glee, her eyes sparkling mirthfully.

"That was brilliant," she laughs, squeezing my hand in hers for a second as we go down the stairs two at a time. "For a minute there I actually thought you were going to stay behind and rat me out."

"I almost did," I tell her simply. "You're not supposed to be breaking the rules."

"Yeah, well, it's better that I'm breaking rules than breaking heads," she flutters her eyelashes at me, still looking jubilant.

After a few minutes of silence as we slow our paces down the stairs, we reach the exit and enter the lobby, behaving casually as we slowly leave the hotel and begin down the street. Although it's not even seven o'clock now, it's pitch black outside and there are large, wet snow-flakes falling from the sky, getting stuck in our hair and hitting our faces. The flakes turn to water on our cheeks the second they hit and soon both our cheeks are damp.

There are quite a few people in the street, all chattering away happily to their companions or shuffling silently through the snow. Beside me she looks spellbound for a moment, an expression of pure joy evident on her features; nothing like the absolute terror back in Madrid when she caught me in the bathroom, sawing into my wrists with the razor.

Amazingly, the need to cut hasn't been as strong. I won't say it's gone. I have a feeling it will always be there, lurking like some dark shadow, but it has diminished somewhat. Especially when I'm scared to see her go into an episode like the one she did before. I almost taste the blood in my mouth from the glimpse she gave me into her nightmares, and shiver.

"Cold?" she mistook my small tremor, and I shake my head.

I study her for a while, and then something occurs to me. "Can I ask you something?"

She looks surprised for a few moments, and it takes me a moment to realize why. After all, I have never exactly asked someone that kind of stupid question. In fact, it's rare that I do ask people questions.

"Sure, fire away."

"You said you've been having these dreams for two years now, and it's only just occurred to me that you can still look every one of your friends in the eye. And yet…it's almost as though you murder them in your sleep every night."

It's her turn to be silent this time, and I'm unnerved by the tense set in her jaw as she considers what I've just said. We walk down the street, turn the corner and walk another two blocks towards the bridge again before she replies.

"I'm not sure I can answer that…but I'll try," she tells me truthfully, her tone now doubtfully instead of playful. "It's almost like – it almost feels as though I'm someone else in those dreams. Almost like a detached reality. The only time I'm really afraid of them is the moment that I wake up. I mean, I dream those things almost as if it's not me, and yes, I'm shocked about everything that happens…but it's only in that place between being asleep and awake that I'm truly terrified, and I just want to die and make the pain and all the blood stop." She shudders. "And then I wake up and I react to all the stuff that happened, and I'm disgusted with it. But by the time I see the faces of anyone from my dreams, that's all they are. Horrible dreams. The memories of a bad dream. Only they're so much stronger than just remembering a bad dream I feel as though I'm remembering an actual part of my life. Something I've actually committed."

There is a long silence as I digest this, finding that despite the vague and confusing detail, what she has just said is a state I recognize. I don't know how I do, but I can relate. Even though I don't dream of killing everyone that has ever looked at me.

"I think it's Zorn."

I hadn't expected that. I stop walking and turn to her, unable to form the question although she seems to read it in my expression.

We both have stopped walking, not quite by the bridge, but by a bench a few yards away from it. Neither of us moves to sit.

"Well, now that you've made me consider it, we already know that Zorn is the cause of all these nightmares. But we have no idea why. Maybe she's not doing it directly to torture me but she's seeing images of herself doing this to the people I know and I'm the one reacting to it."

I shake my head. "Why would she be dreaming about killing your friends and family in the first place?"

This question stops her and she looks pensive for a moment. "I have no idea…I don't know much about sacred spirits, but I do know that they can wield a lot of power through a human vessel, which means all of my dreams are possible." She pauses again and a strange wind seems to blow by, making even me pull my jacket closer around myself. When she speaks again her voice is lower, almost thoughtful. "A sacred spirit will search its entire existence for a mortal that is has been destined for, and will remain with that vessel until the mortal dies. And the spirit will wander again."

"Chaya?" I glance at her, taking in her shining black eyes in the darkness. Something about the endless pools strikes something cold inside me.

"All mortals have a sacred spirit with them at one point or another," she continues. "While many spirits may pass through a single mortal without notice, if the wrong mortal attempts to harness a sacred spirit not fated to him or her, the consequences are dire."

"Wait," I'm extremely confused now. She doesn't make any sense, the way she's talking, almost on a completely different subject. Almost like it's another person completely. "Are you saying that even non-beybladers have bitbeasts?"

"Sacred spirits," she corrects me. "Yes, but only those that seek out their powers will find them within them. There are some, like me, that can almost co-exist."

"You mean…the way Zorn shares your unconscious – "

"Zorn is as conscious as Dranzer is," Chaya's voice is even colder, almost rivaling the falling snow. "You may not hear her, but she is strong. Her voice will reach you when you most need it. You're weaker than you should be, but soon you'll be stronger."

"Weak?" I can't help but feel indignant. "Tate, what are you talking about?"

"I – aaahh!" she had begun to turn to be and is suddenly falling, her feet flying out in front of her as she catches a path of ice under the sole of her boot, landing with a muffled thump on the hard ground. She moans out loud, her shoulders tensing up and her face puckering as she makes a grimace of pain.

"Are you alright?" I ask, surprised at the grudging note in my voice. I suppose I'm still a little annoyed at her calling me weak moments before, although what brought that on completely eludes me.

"Mmph!" she makes a strange sound, and when she opens her eyes she actually looks like she's in pain. "I fell on my tailbone or something, because it hurts and I can't get up and my butt is getting soaking wet."

There's an unexpected roar of sound that's loud in my ears and I'm filled with a feeling of something bursting almost and my stomach hurts, but not painfully so. It takes me a little while to realize that I'm doubled over, my eyes scrunched closed and…I'm laughing.

I don't know why I chose to just now, I don't know why…but there's just something incredibly hilarious about this situation, with her sitting down in the damp snow, the grimace of pain turning into a look of stunned disbelief and then a grimace of indignation. And this makes me laugh even more, and I don't know why, I'm just…well…she does look comical, there's no doubt about that.

"KAI, WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME YOU SADISTIC BASTARD!" she yells, and all I've really taken in is that there are tears running down my cheeks, I'm laughing so hard. I guess in retrospective, it's really not that funny…

Yes it is.

"Get over here and help me up," she snaps grumpily, and I grin at her, my shoulders still heaving with laughter and bend down to give her a hand. She grasps it and I begin to pull her up, but suddenly she yanks down on my arm and I'm sitting right next to her, snow soaking through my coat and pants, while she's moaning about having hit her tailbone again.

That sets me off again.

For about an hour she yells at me for being a twisted sadistic jerk that gets off on her pain, but I don't mind.

(-)

It's close to midnight as the two of us sneak back into the hotel room quietly. I hope no one noticed our absence, although I'm pretty sure that with this crew, it's impossible. The entire way back Chaya complained about her backside, and although it was amusing to get the strange stares from the passersby that understood Japanese, I'm glad sneaking into our hotel quieted her down a little.

As soon as I close the door she leaps in, tosses her coat and hurries to her room, punching me playfully on the shoulder as she passes and closes the door behind her. I watch for a moment even though I know the door's not going to open any time soon, and then turn towards my suitcase and makeshift sofa-bed in the corner.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I see Kon still standing there watching me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he stood there the entire time that we were gone. But I know the Chinese teen isn't that type of person.

He sends me a level glare, and then shakes his head, looking as though he has the beginnings of a smile on his face. I could be mistaken though. "Next time you need me to cover for you, Hiwatari, do you think you can actually tell me in words? It might help."

He rolls his eyes and leaves me alone in the living area, walking towards his bed in the other part of the suite.

As I begin to get ready for bed, pulling off the heavy, soaking pants and jacket I wore the entire night, and can't help but allow a calm, dare I say it, contented feeling encompassing me completely. It's something I haven't felt for a very long time…possibly since before my parents died, if I can actually remember that far. It's not bad, this…

_Ring! Ring! _

The telephone shatters the silence, giving me a heart-attack and a half. With a growl I lean forward to the phone cradle and haul off the receiver. "Da_?" _

The voice on the other end is low and dangerous, the Russian words so quickly strung together and laced with menace that I nearly drop the phone. _"Good evening, young Kai."_

I know that voice. The voice that has haunted me for so long. I thought I had heard the last of it two years ago, but no… "Boris."

"_Oh, I'm so delighted that you remember me_," he says in that phony voice of his that makes me shiver. I know how 'earnest' he's being.

"_What the hell do you want_?" I demand harshly, once again glad I'm the only one on this team that understands Russian.

"_What we wanted two years ago, boy. We need you to harness the power you were born to control_."

"_I already told you to fuck off_," I snarl, getting ready to throw the phone back onto the cradle.

"_Ah, ah, ah…_" his voice taunts me even though I have the receiver held almost at the point where I can hang up on him. The voice is distant, but still nerve-wracking. _"I'd consider the life of your American whore, boy. We have many connections_…"

I feel an eruption of hot anger explode within me, but I keep my tone controlled, even though I'm sure my grip on the phone might break the fragile porcelain thing in half. "_I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, you psychotic freak. I'm notifying the authorities_."

His laughter is the last thing I hear as I throw the receiver down, with more force than I should have. It topples to the ground, the dial-tone screaming at me as I stare at it grimly.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

* * *

TBC 


	11. Wach

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah)

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Wach 

I feel myself vault upwards, the air whipping at my face as I move. I scramble from the tangle of my sheets and stare down at my hands, searching for any imprints from before…Seconds ago, maybe less, they held within them a razor-sharp wire that I used to cut into the throats of –

I shudder, not wanting to remember.

As expected, a nauseous feeling creeps up my throat, a lump that makes breathing painful for me.

I inhale deeply, shutting my eyes so tightly that I can see stars, before looking back down at my hands again.

The red lines of blood where the wire cut into my fingers when I pulled it taut are gone, as though they never existed.

Which, of course, they didn't.

My knees pull up so that I can rest my chin on them and stare expectantly at the door as though someone will burst in, yelling at me and telling me how sick and twisted I am. I always wait for that to happen and it never does. I shudder to think what would happen if anyone other than Kai knew about what I see.

Speaking of Kai…I remember all of a sudden that because of some picture of the two of us, that I'm, in effect, "grounded". I'm not surprised by this, but I can't help finding the punishment unfair and unbefitting.

Yawning loudly I nestle into my covers again, just closing my eyes for a moment of relief, trying to feign sleep. I wonder if the others already went on to the press-conference. They're supposed to be meeting with the Russian team today before the exhibition match. It's going to be a huge press field-day, considering the Bladebreakers are supposed to be facing a different team from the one we beat two years ago. Kai told me that the Demolition Boyz were disbanded and put into government custody when everyone found out about the Abbey. Our team will be facing a new team that the Russian BBA has had to put together hastily in the last two years.

With a loud groan, I throw back my covers, deciding that I might as well get up. No point in lazing all day when I could be training, right? Well, that's the way the others would see it, anyhow.

My eyes catch sight of the mirror across the room, and after a pause, I look in half-heartedly. My reflection hasn't been much to look at recently, although there are reasons for that. I wince a little and reach up to flick away an eyelash as I study the dark circles under my eyes. These are the only things that can betray my sleepless nights, and I'm running out of makeup and eye drops to hide the bloodshot eyes and circles –

_SLAM. _

I jump in surprise by the impact of a slamming door that rocks the entire suite. What the hell?

"Hey Hiwatari, hold up, it's really not that – "

_SLAM! _

" – bad," Takao's voice sounds depressed for a once and I hear him heave a loud sigh through my door.

Intrigued and slightly worried, I abandon the mirror and go to wrench open my door, not even bothering to see if Daitenji has decided to grace us with his currently unwanted presence. My brother and our friends look up at me in surprise, but it seems to ebb away when I send a questioning glance towards the bathroom where Kai's gone. I know that because it's the only door in here with a lock on it.

"What happened?"

Takao and Kyoujiu exchange glances, before Kyoujiu shrugs. "He's been in a really weird mood all day. Worse than usual. And then what happened at the conference kind of made things worse…"

"What? What happened at the conference?" I ask, desperate to know what's wrong with Kai. I eye the bathroom door warily. There's no sound coming from within, and for a moment I feel a flash of memory, the images of that day long ago when I saw him cutting into himself with the razor. Could he be…? No, he wouldn't have time to grab the thing if he just came from the BBA.

"The team we're facing…it's…"

"The Demolition Boyz," Rei finishes, obviously getting tired of Kyoujiu's hesitance. I feel the blood rush from my cheeks and my heart seem to drop.

"The…Demolition Boyz?" I repeat, hearing the almost frantic note in my voice. "Like…Tala, Bryan, Ian and Spencer, the Demolition Boyz? Those ones?"

"Well what other ones do you know?" Takao deadpans. "Of course, they've been entered by an anonymous benefactor and they kept saying that they were not under the control of any organization bent on World Domination, but it looks like Hiwatari doesn't trust them."

"Neither do I," Rei says, his voice laced with unnatural venom. We all remember when he was badly injured by Bryan's falcon beast. The others maintain that he was very injured, but I know the truth. Both the look on Kai's face from that day as well as Zorn's cold words in my mind told me that Rei was closer to dying than any of us, even the doctors at the hospital, knew. Some of the wounds he sustained attacked not only his body, but his spirit. I'm amazed he managed to get through without some heavy baggage.

But that's besides the point…why are the Demolition Boyz back? Why would the BBA even consider them as a team to enter in the World tournaments?

"It's a matter of pride."

I jump, both when I realize that I have spoken out loud, and that Kai was the one that answers. He's emerging from the bathroom, his face sopping wet so that the blue triangles are marred and running down his cheeks. Is it just me, or are his eyes rivalling mine in the blood-shot department? I refrain from saying anything and ask, in a controlled voice, "What do you mean?"

"The Russian BBA doesn't want a team that might not put up as much as a fight to a foreign team as the Bladebreakers did. If they put a team together on short notice, they stand a chance both at losing and at being criticized by other countries that don't know the whole story as to their decision to rob the Demolition Boyz of regaining their title. It has to do with their pride."

None of this makes sense to me, and when I try to send Kai a questioning glance, he ignores me, preferring to turn to Rei. "Can I borrow your room for a minute?"

The Chinese boy nods in confusion, and Kai begins to move off in that direction. He stops first, and without turning around says, "Chaya, I need to talk to you for a minute."

This surprises me. Usually Kai doesn't bother with even dignifying the fact that we're on speaking terms. Although we were never hiding it from anyone, we've never openly raised banners and announcements that we're friends. And even after the others found out about our…somethingship…it was always quiet and casual, never really putting it out there, never really not.

I shrug and say sure, following him into Rei's room, feeling a frown on my face. I'm confused at what's going on, but I also feel concern wash through me. Kai would be taking this as a blow, considering his past with the Demolition Boyz – especially Tala. And to find out they're not being watched the way they should be is definitely going to have an impact on him.

"Hey…are you alright?" I ask, not liking the doubt in my voice as he closes the door behind us. I can imagine the others crowding around it to see what Kai's about to say to me.

He doesn't answer me as he goes to stand by the window. There's a moment of silence, and I move forward, reaching out for him. My fingers barely graze his shoulder when he pulls roughly away and practically stomps across the room.

I feel as though I've been slapped, and don't bother to mask the anger and hurt in my voice. "What the hell is your problem? I'm trying to see if you're okay!"

"I'm fine," he snaps, looking angry, before looking away. "I've just…been thinking."

He runs a hand through his hair, pushing a small line of the dripping blue paint into it. There's a preoccupied look on his face, and for a moment flashes numerous emotions flit across his face. Before I can try to identify even one, he's set the mask upon himself and glares over at me. "Maybe Daitenji-san had a point."

I feel a little confused. Kai's been worried about that? I smile slightly. "That's it? I already told you and everyone else that was listening. We're friends first, right? There's no lovey-dovey confusing crap involved, they were just two kisses, right? They didn't mean anything."

Even as I say it I feel an annoying pang at the back of my mind, telling me to just keep lying.

That puzzles me. I'd already said things were going to be platonic, because I didn't want to ruin our friendship, and now my mind decides to confuse me even more? Hell no.

"That's what you think," I look up at Kai who is looking at me coldly as he speaks. "Stop kidding yourself, where do you think it would lead?"

Momentarily stumped, I feel myself sit back, hoping the bed will keep me from falling. Instead, I fall backwards onto the floor, missing the bed by inches and hold back a yelp of pain, although I continue to look up at him. "Are…are you suggesting that…?"

"Forget it, just –" he groans, looking out the window again, almost as if he's searching for something or someone. "This isn't the time or place, like Daitenji said."

"I know, I get that," I say, pulling myself off of the floor to sit on the bed. "Strictly friends, right? I don't know about you, but I don't mind. I need a friend more than I need a…a…" I inwardly sigh, ready to speak the word I didn't want to have to say, "…boyfriend."

This silence is the most dangerously uncomfortable that I've been a part of since we became friends. Kai actually seems a little stumped over there himself. Well, that's his fault; he was the one who decided to go questioning everything.

"This is what I'm talking about," he says slowly. "I see where Daitenji-san is coming from. I think it would be better if things were just the same as before."

I frown, peering at him. "Before? Before what?"

He doesn't even have to voice it, but I instinctively know what he means. Before Madrid. Before we were friends. Before the secrets. Before that kiss that shouldn't have happened. Before all of it.

"Oh."

That sinking feeling that I should know very well creeps upon me and it's almost like there's a swirling vortex of something in my stomach, sucking everything in and creating that nauseating, fly-away, detached feeling. I feel sick, but not the same sick as I feel with my dreams. This is something completely different. Like being taken from a warm, roaring fire and being thrown back out into the freezing cold again. It's like I'm back to being alone after finding another person that understood me. Actually, it is that I'm alone again, because when I go to try to speak, I can't. "But…"

He's looking right at me now, a look of complete sincerity as to what he means and I feel every word both on my lips and in my mind die; dry up at their sources.

I should be doing something now. I should be yelling at him and trying to get him to change his mind and be coming up with all kinds of attitudy, quick-witted remarks. I should be prying into what the hell made him change his mind, and I should be doing what I'm so good at doing whenever one of our team-mates has an issue that might cause the end of all things. I should be walking away with a brash, calm and collected attitude and telling him where to get off. I should be fighting tooth and nail…

I should be doing something, other than just staring at him.

He's watching me expectantly, as though waiting for something.

_'Why?' _

I clear my throat, look away for a moment, taking in a deep breath just to put me back on the same, calm wave-length as before.

_'Alone again.' _

I sigh and look back, allowing the practiced grin to light up my features, and I shrug and laugh a little. "Well…I don't know why you're just up and doing this, but…I guess you have your reasons, right?" I push myself off the bed and don't hesitate to open the door. The guys are all crouched there where they've been listening, but I ignore their presence. "Sure. Fine. Back to normal, no big." I laugh again, an unnatural sound that scares me, striking a freezing chord in my chest. "Guess I'll just go then. Shower, I guess…"

I don't know how my legs are still working or when the door closed behind me or how I'm suddenly on my bed with my knees bent so that I'm curled in a foetal position. I can vaguely hear Max calling worriedly through my door, hesitating to come in while I lie easily and tell him not to come in, that I'm getting dressed. How is it that my voice is so calm, and normal?

I feel almost as though my actions are being carried out by someone else and I'm just a spectator.

And the minute this thought enters my head, I wince, having the image of a clawed hand tightening it's grasp over my heart. As though my solitude has once again pulled me back into the clutches of an evil spirit.

Max is still calling out to me, but I ignore him, closing my eyes and searching for peace and quiet in the one place, the one state that there is never any solace for me.

The darkness of the back of my eyelids is the last thing I see as a hazy sense of nothingness slides over me.

* * *

I'm not too sure about this chapter, but hey. Writer's block is never kind.

Kuriness

R&R please.


	12. Schatten

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: (Set two years after the Russian tournaments. In my version, season two and three never happened because to tell you the truth, I really hate those parts so yeah)

Note 2:...ahem...for the last time, (you know who you are) stop ordering me to continue Burning in the Sea with very explicit language. A) It's on a temporary hiatus and B) I'll continue it when I'm damn good and ready and not before then. Capiche?

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Schatten 

It's only been two days but already I feel myself becoming unhinged; almost like a mental patient that has been incarcerated for twenty years of their life. A sense of something terrible looming overhead has been growing steadily and strongly. So strong, in fact, that it's been affecting the rest of the team. I'd like to say that it's just nerves or stress because of the upcoming match, but I know it has nothing to do with that.

I can narrow it down to one factor, much as I would hate to.

Chaya.

Of course, it doesn't seem like anything's wrong. She jokes and laughs with the others, the fake smile everyone thinks is real the main fixture in her face. She doesn't even act as if anything's changed. It's exactly like before everything. She'll still talk to me, try to include me in things, but she doesn't overdo it as though to see how far she can push – how much she can get away with saying and hoping I'll reply.

Despite this, the others have begun to lag in their training and everything else. Her brother and Kinomiya rarely joke around and Kon keeps sending wary glances at Chaya and myself, which I ignore. Daitenji-san seems happier than ever, as though the decision had anything to do with him. He will once in a while look at me in an approving manner, and I find myself getting angry, something I rarely do.

My decision had absolutely nothing to do with his staunch efforts in curbing bad publicity for himself and us.

My ears are still ringing with the cold, low voice and the threat is almost as though he just spoke it. _'I'd consider the life of your American whore, boy.' _

I tighten my hands into fists as I walk against the wind, ignoring the searing wind attacking my face as I walk. Even in my mind, his words are cold and sharp, like a thousand knives carving into me. That bastard…I knew he hadn't really disappeared. He's just been in hiding, biding his time and waiting. I'm sure it didn't take too much effort on his part to track down the original members of the abbey and get the Demolition Boyz back from the government – or set himself up as the Demolition Boyz anonymous benefactor.

Yuri told me so much at the press conference, anyhow, I think angrily, recalling him stepping aside for a few minutes. Luckily it seems they haven't been brainwashed again, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. Just like I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they really try to go after me again. The phone calls are one thing – running down anything or anyone close to me is another matter entirely, one I'm sure they're only moments from attempting again.

Someone bumps past my shoulder as I walk, and I feel myself automatically glare at the person. It's a young woman, pulling a bundled up child by the hand. Both look at me with curious fear, before running off.

Smart people. Run away from me while you can.

Over the past few days I've been contemplating just disappearing from the team in the middle of the night – just leave everything as it is, hop on a plane and vanish where not even those abbey bastards can find me. I was still considering it almost obsessively up until two days ago when I decided to cut all ties; to make it easier. And all I ended up doing was making it harder on me and filling the team with inner discord.

Wonderful. I'm even more of a screw-up than I thought.

I can't help my thoughts going back to her, even as I try to clear my head of anything to do with anyone. I want to have just a moment's peace, just to figure out what to do next…but I'm obsessed with her.

Obsessed.

Interesting choice of words. Wasn't it her that accused me with being obsessed with power not less than two years ago? Ironic how that truth completely juxtaposed itself.

Her face is constantly on my mind; not in a grotesque, stalker-like way, but more of something fascinating that no matter how much I try not to think of, only grows stronger in it's persistence. Especially when it comes down to those last few moments before her eyes changed back into the fake cheerfulness we all see.

Was there really any point to anything? I try to go over everything in my mind, even as I near the bridge that holds all the memories of but a few short days. I really did want to just disappear…I still do. But I can't risk leaving now, even after telling her to keep away from me. No matter my words to her, those bastards will still come after her – and more possibly the others just because they're associated with me.

Still, I hope that my actions have at least thrown them temporarily. I might need to speak to Daitenji-san about having the team forfeit or at least post-pone the match until Boris is found again. Even as I contemplate it, I know that will never happen. Daitenji, with his publicity mongering, and Kinomiya with his flare for glory wouldn't stand for either of those suggestions. None of them seem to know how dangerous it is to go up against Boris and his team of mad-scientist lunatics.

Well, she might…

Might have, I mean.

If I let her.

But she has enough on her plate with that strange bitbeast…spirit monstrosity, and besides. I've already burned that bridge. I'll have to figure this out on my own.

I lean over the railings of the bridge, staring down into the murky colors and swirling snow. Deceptively dark and endless beneath the ice far below. I smirk a little. Isn't that how people tend to see me? I've never really thought about it, but now that I do, it seems exactly how she would have described me long ago. Maybe still does.

The wind tugs at the sleeves of my coat, and I glance downward, taking in the flash of skin between my gloves and my coat that is momentarily uncovered in the wind, before the breeze stops and it is covered from the cold once again. The scars I know are there seem to burn like brands tonight, like fire has taken hold of them. The newest ones have long since begun to fade, but I have a feeling these ones will always remain. The old ones will eventually disappear as I get older, but those that she touched…and ripped into to show me her nightmares. Those have some strange feel to them, like they weren't inflicted by human hands.

I snort out loud, the sound lost in the hissing wind, shaking my head at myself in amusement.

What the hell is wrong with me? I'm obsessing over the smallest things, believing in others that are not meant to be. Like growing older?

I could probably just jump over this bridge right now, crashing through the ice and drowning myself. It'd get rid of everything and the last thing I'd feel is the cold emptiness, different from that which has surrounded me most of my life. For a moment I actually consider it. Would it be so bad? Boris and his lapdogs couldn't reach me if I were dead. They'd have to give up on their stupid little world domination stint.

Angry black-brown eyes loom in front of me in my minds eye and I sigh, knowing that if I did something like that she'd never forgive me. No, she'd probably join me. I've already pushed her to the breaking point with destroying our friendship for her safety, I won't do that again.

But at least now I have an alternative if there's no other way out.

'I'll explain it to her one day,' I decide grimly, getting ready to turn back and face the suffocating silence of our hotel. 'Just not anytime soon.'

I barely catch the movement to my left, but the quick flash of red hair is enough to prompt me to move. In seconds, my legs springing to life beneath me, and my muscles tensing, I've taken off after the strange presence, feeling my scars twinge again with prickles of burning pain.

Fuck his genetically enhanced blood, I've caught him in seconds and have him pinned by the throat to the frozen ground of the park. I try to sense any others that may be lurking about, but it seems to be just him. Icy cerulean eyes glare back at me emotionlessly, his mouth drawn into a thin line. I don't care that I might be cutting off his air supply, and even if I am, he doesn't show any sign of me doing so. Probably part of his training. "_What do you want, Yuri Ivanov?"_

He stares at me for a moment, raising an eyebrow, before gesturing with his eyes towards my hold on his throat. Obviously, he's attempting some sort of trust play here. We both know that he could easily break my wrist and fingers with a single twist – his hands are free, after all – but he seems to want me to let him go by myself.

I debate for a moment, and then nod, letting go and standing. I don't bother helping him up, but cross my arms and glare, waiting for him to speak. "_Well_?"

He's quiet as he stands, looks me over, looks around cautiously, and then speaks slowly, his voice low and nearly mingling with the sounds from the city. "_I'm here alone. No one else_."

I believe him, of course. Yuri isn't the type to go back on his word, no matter how brainwashed he ever became. And might become again.

Yuri Ivanov…I've known him far longer than any of the Bladebreakers, even if I did forget him for the better part of eight years. The beyblading world knows him only as Tala, the mysterious cyborg from Biovolt.

"_I came to speak with you…a polite warning_," he purses his lips and eye feel myself getting aggravated, even though I don't show it. Letting down my guard in front of this zazranec is not on my list of things to do.

"_Get on with it then_."

"_Boris has been threatening your woman. We all know this. You shouldn't take it as such. It's not just a threat_." My heart strains a little at the confirmation of things I knew were true, but I don't allow myself to visibly react. There's more. There's always more. "_If you don't return to us, Boris will strike at you in any way he can, especially her_."

"_Excuse me if I don't come running back to that place because of some chip placed in my head_," I say coldly, satisfied to see his eyes flash almost angrily back at me if it were possible. "_You, as well as the rest of that fucked up company need to realize that I want nothing to do with you_."

"_Then you condemn her to more danger than you think_," his eyes narrow. "_At least if you come with us, you can lighten the burden for her. Possibly get her away to safety_."

I tense, suddenly realizing something. "_This isn't just about me_." I glare, and before I can stop myself, I've thrust out my hand for his throat again, my wrist resting against his chin as my fingers grip his neck. "_When did his focus change to her_?"

His eyes don't register pain, but his voice is strained from the force. "_Since the last tournament. Since she penetrated the crystallis. No human has that much raw power, and no bitbeast has ever been able to break through, not even Wolborg or Black Dranzer. Boris has wanted to analyze her for years now, but the situation didn't present itself until he realized what she is to you. He decided to kill two birds with one stone_."

My mind momentarily flashes back to that day long ago, when I watched helplessly in the background, stripped of Dranzer, as she vaulted to the giant black crystal like prison that encased Yuri and Tyson until the final match was won. She began part of that crystallis and no one knows why, how or what she accomplished. But the fact that she could penetrate it…

I throw Yuri to the ground, the look in my eyes clear warning. "_Listen to me. And listen well. Tell this to Boris and whatever scientist bastard he has with him – I am not returning to you. Ever. And she is not my woman, she is a teammate and nothing more, just like the others. I don't have feelings for them, but if you strike at them, so help me God, I'll come after every single one of you – and I won't go easy on you just because they turned you into a laboratory freak. Got that, Yuri?"_

He stands again, brushing himself off and for the first time, I recognize emotion in his eyes. Regret and pity. He sighs and looks up at the stars that are blurred in the endless swirl of snow, and then back at me. "_You're a real stubborn_ sooksin, _you know that Mikhail? You're making this all so much more complicated and painful then it need be_."

"You don't have the right to lecture me," I tell him, turning around. "Not when you've already made things more complicated and painful than they ever should have gotten. "

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0 

Short, but hey. That's what happens when I'm tired and…tired. Originally, Tala wasn't going to be in this fic, at least not more than just mentioned and as a side character, but I got an idea for him after reading a review by Omnimalevolent. A wild round of applause, yes? Anyhoo…continuing on…

TBC

R&R

KuriQuinn


	13. Verzweiflung

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: This chapter is dedicated to **Rhythmic** who's review really picked me up when I read it. I like knowing I'm actually getting my message through.

Note2: Some of you have asked about the chapter titles. They are all in German, as is the title of this fic. So that you guys don't have to do all that work (of course if you're not lazy like me you can just look them up on the net) I'm going to be putting up the translations at the end of the fic for now and once I edit Alptraum I'll have the translations in each chapter. Bear with me for the wait. You guys are saints, I swear...

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Chapter Thirteen: Verzweiflung 

The ceiling is empty darkness above me, beckoning me to sleep, but I ignore it, despite my eyelids becoming heavy. I'll lose this fight in the end, I know, but I'd rather lose fighting it than willfully give in. The images are two grotesque for me to give in.

I need to think about something else.

How stupid…isn't this the game I used to play with myself, trying to delude reality? Pathetic. It never works. I'll inevitably end up right back where I started.

The dreams are getting worse now.

I didn't think it was possible for that to happen, but it has. How selfish was I to think that just murdering my friends and family was the most horrible thing I could dream of? To have their blood on my hands was a joy compared to what my mind has shown me these past few nights.

Strangers.

Men. Women. Children.

Old, young, babies, of any color or gender or race, the whites of their eyes the last thing I see as I massacre them. With whatever is in my hands – sometimes my bare hands. I awake constantly to the echoes of someone ordering me to kill and end up having to run to the washroom, retching out everything I've eaten earlier. A burning pain is in my stomach at all times and my throat is raw and sore from the acid bile that escapes my mouth every night.

Why?

I want to scream out the question for someone to answer. Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I can't blame this on Zorn, maybe I'm just clinically insane and people should lock me up so that I can't hurt anyone?

But I know that's far from the truth. After all, I see her eyes flash before mine moments before I wake up, and that voice in my ears, echoing…

See? Didn't I tell you it was useless to think of better things? It always comes back to this…

I shudder, pulling myself into a sitting position and pausing for a moment, glancing at the locked door. I haven't felt the need lately to leave my room. Everyone thinks I'm just complying to the rules and have decided to listen to Daitenji after all. I might as well let them believe it, I'm too tired to change their minds.

I wonder if I should tell Kai that my nightmares have become worse. He may have told me he didn't want to be as close…but I'm sure that even with all that, he'll listen to me.

…right?

Who am I kidding. There was probably a reason he stopped wanting to be around me. And I bet it had nothing to do with Dickinson's rules, either.

My legs begin to feel hot and clammy beneath the covers and I push them off, looking around the dark room carefully. The shadows are dark where the moonlight doesn't touch, and I find myself shiver, although not from cold. I'm actually rather warm.

I decide to just step out to get some air, maybe have a smoke. Maybe the cold will numb me even further?

I grab a stick from my pack of Marlboros and try to be as quiet as I can when I open the door. I don't want to wake Kai. He's been having a horrible day so far, at least from what I've seen. He stalked into the suite this morning, so early that the sky was still dark, looking overly pissed off at something. And maybe scared. The way his eyes were flitting around, he looked nervous.

Of course, I'm probably the only one to notice things like that. Gee, I wonder why…insert sarcasm here.

He didn't even bother answering any one when they asked where he was. Just demanded to see Daitenji-san.

And even after he saw him, he didn't look any better. He actually looked worse. I feel horrible. I want to ask him what's wrong and be able to comfort him, like any friend should do, and I want him to trust me again – if that's the reason he wanted us to go back to the way things were. Maybe he suddenly stopped trusting me?

'Listen to me,' I snort to myself. I sound like some preschooler with a crush. All these questions without answers that I chose not to ask when I had the chance.

Chose? I'm not sure I chose anything. I think I was just so stunned that I couldn't do anything else.

I need someone to talk to. My mind is scaring me with its jumbled, cluttered existence.

As I slip out of my door, I realize that my efforts to keep quiet and not disturb him were in vain.

He's already standing out on the terrace, looking over the city. Okay, not really looking. I'm sure he's thinking deeply bout something. He always is.

A small part of me wants to just turn around and go back to my room, wait him out. I don't need air that badly…

But the larger, more prominent part is tired of this stupid pussy-footing around. I want to talk to him, damn it, I need to know what the hell he was thinking. Or at least some idea to put my worries to rest.

The air hits me like a slap in the face as I step out onto the terrace, the cold cutting at my bare arms. Kai looks up immediately, and his eyes flash several emotions I've never seen him direct at me before. Surprise, wariness and something else. Before he turns away, pretending I'm not there. For some reason his entire body is tense, almost like someone expecting an someone to attack him. Me maybe?

I'm quiet for a moment, before I slink to the other end of the terrace, looking in the opposite direction and I light my cigarette, as though I only came out here for a smoke. We're silent, him thinking, me puffing away. I lose interest in the fag while I try to think of something to say, but each thing I try I can just picture him staring down at me coldly and looking away.

Disgusted with myself, I stub out the cigarette, watching the ashes flutter away in the swirls of snow. 'Damn it, when did just talking to him turn into such a hard thing to – '

He moves to leave, as though my presence here has reminded him he suddenly has to be somewhere. The snow falling around us seems to churn away from him as though he's some kind of heat source that they'll die of if they get to close. Panic washes through me and I try to settle on something to do, something to keep him here.

Before I even know what I'm doing, I've moved from my place in the cold terrace and have embraced him from behind, holding onto him tightly.

Neither of us moves for a moment.

My face is buried in his back, blocking out all of the light from the city below, but I can easily imagine what kind of picture we make. His hand on the door, the other at the side, trapped in my grasp. Both of us are frozen, almost like the weather has immobilized us and despite all of that, I feel the strangest warmth flowing through me, almost from him. I feel a hint of the ease and freedom from weeks ago, but then he moves and I'm frozen again.

"Chaya…"

"No, don't tell me, I already know what you're going to say," I cut him off, releasing him from my hold. He doesn't turn around, which I find both helpful and irksome as I speak. I want him to look at me and recognize my existence…but I know if he turns I'll just see the same cold gleam in his eyes. "I already know that you've decided that it' be better if things are back to the way that they were, but now they are and I have to tell you it sucks this way. Big time. And I also want you to know that it's all fine and dandy that you made your decision, but you never let me have any input, which just isn't fair. What kind of friend doesn't appreciate another's feelings?"

"Chaya…we're not friends."

"But we were," I cry, even though it comes out as more of a hiss. "And even if you tell yourself a million times that we're not – well, that's your issue. I'll go along with it outwardly the way I've been doing for days now, but when it really comes down to crunch time – Kai, you're important to me. I don't have anyone else that understands me, not even my own twin. You're my friend and…and…you're also much more than that."

He still doesn't move, or acknowledge me.

"Please. Tell me why you suddenly decided that that wasn't good enough."

"I already told you why."

"Yeah, well it was bullshit and we both know it. Kai, you have to tell me, please just – "

There's a sudden growl and before I can open my mouth to speak ,or cry out or even gasp, I'm suddenly being pushed. I feel the scrape of cold concrete against the thin material of my nightshirt and my hands being forced into a wrist-cracking hold, practically crushed into the snow-covered railing of the terrace. He's leaning over me, his eyes cold crimson as they glare at me, and I feel dizzy, because the way we're leaning, if he tried, he could probably throw me to my death. I can hear the cars and people below, even though they don't notice me hanging precariously near the edge.

Something clenches my heart. Since when am I afraid of Kai?

He squeezes my wrists in his hands, pushing me closer into the grating concrete and I feel a whimper of pain escape my lips. Pain and fear. I've never seen his eyes like this. Something else shines out from behind his irises, something angry and primal, animalistic even. His grip tightens and he leans closer. Instinctively I move back, forgetting momentarily that I'm being held up by a mere concrete railing.

"Don't speak to me again. Don't ask me any questions. Just stay away from me."

If he puts anymore pressure on my hands, they're going to break, but I don't care. Pain is real. It makes Kai real. He's in front of me and he's alright as opposed to in my dreams. Just please stay that way.

"Ka – " my words end in a choked moan as he puts more pressure on me, almost to the breaking point. I'm scared. I've never seen him like this. His eyes…they're not his. They're different, almost like endless tunnels of emptiness. Void.

He moves again and I wait for the rest of the pain to come from his vice like grip, but to my surprise, it's something completely different.

I feel myself being roughly pulled upwards and swung away from the railing, a blur of red the only color I can clearly recognize, before I'm abruptly tossed up against the solid wall of the building. I try to gasp for air at the impact, but find myself having my oxygen cut off by demanding lips on my own.

Raw, hungry, needy, possessive…

That's what most people would call this kiss. He has my arms trapped above my head and the rest of my body trapped between his and the wall as he assaults my mouth with his. This is different from the other kisses…I don't feel that flutter of pleasure in my stomach that I did with the others. This one is painful. It's more intense and angry, going farther than the others did. His tongue is in my mouth and I wince when I feel him biting at my lips and teeth. It hurts…I try to pass it off as him just being clumsy and really not knowing what he's doing.

But he does.

This kiss isn't just venting for him.

I feel the real meaning off it almost as though he's siphoning the words he can't say into me with his lips.

This is not lust, or want or frustration.

This is goodbye.

Plain and simple.

He releases my hands, but I can't find it in my self to move, completely paralyzed by my realization and the feeling of everything around me that I can't enjoy. I think at some point I must have wanted this. Wanted Kai to be kissing me fervently like this and holding me roughly by the shoulder and waist in an embrace like this. But I didn't want the knowledge of why. I didn't want something so cold to be the reason for any of this.

He finally pulls back, breathing rashly, letting me go. Without his support I find myself falling to my knees on the concrete, the stabs of pain almost numb to me as I stare up at him.

My lips hurt where he bit them and I wonder blankly if he drew blood because I feel a sickening, coppery taste in my mouth.

"Kai…?"

He's not looking at me, but his fists are clenched and he's breathing as though he's run a marathon. "Don't ever come near me again. You've already screwed this up enough."

I feel my jaw drop at this as he begins to storm back in. The taste of blood is overwhelming in my mouth and I feel my eyes begin to strain, almost like I'm going to cry, but I know better than that. "Kai! Please…Kai, the nightmares, they're – "

"Go tell someone who actually cares."

I feel as though I've been turned to stone.

The door to the terrace closes with a bang and I wonder if he's woken up the entire suite but at the same time don't care. I'm numb, I'm empty, I'm like the wind and snow, cold and void. Am I shivering? I might be, but who can really tell?

I can see his outline going back to sleep on the pull-out couch, and after a few gut-wrenching moments I am able to look away. I stare up into the sky, where the snow falls almost like a swirling white vortex.

_'Do you finally understand how alone you are? There's no one that can share with you this burden.'_

Is her voice regretful?

Who cares? I'm delusional anyhow, I'm probably clinging to a last hope. A dead one, at that.

After all, she showed the situation exactly as it is. She's outlined my destiny for me right here and now, whether I live or die. Either way, I'll always be the same.

Alone.

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Mwaha! I bet you guys thought I was going to get romantic on you again --- Well you were wrong! Insert evil laugh here 

Reviews please, Constructive Criticism is always a good thing,

Ciaoza

Kuriness


	14. Alleine

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: When I said disturbing I MEANT IT!

Note2: I changed a few things in the entire fic: that being that I'm now using the Japanese names instead of the English ones.

Note3: For those who want to know **_Drowning in the Clouds_** is being edited and will have each chapter be ten percent longer than before. Look at it as some kind of deleted scenes. I have up to chapter eighteen edited for anyone who's bored and want's to read...that is all...

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Chapter Fourteen: Alleine 

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it to the fucking seven hells and back again, damn it!

I violently toss myself into a new position on the pull-out couch, needlessly, really, considering I don't think I'm going to sleep tonight. Not since I heard her quietly pad back into her room about an hour or two ago, trying to be as quiet as possible, shutting the door with the barest noise.

Fuck.

What the hell was I thinking? What the hell possessed me to do something so…stupid!

I'm a fucking moron.

I wasn't thinking – worse, I don't even feel like that was me. I would never do something like that to Chaya…would I?

The image of her eyes is branded in my mind like it's been etched there with a fiery poker. The way her face fell and how her eyes seemed to turn an empty black, almost like that of a corpse. She already looks enough like one. I've been noticing how thin and sickly she's been getting lately and it reminds me so much of how I felt so long ago, that I want to throw up.

I have a mental image of her just drowning and me walking away.

But that's what I wanted, wasn't it? That things could finally be back before anything happened between us, so that she's somehow kept safe. So that when I leave the blow won't matter that much?

Who knows what I wanted. There were so many things going through my mind tonight, I guess my subconscious decided to just act for me. But instead of siphoning out what was important and what wasn't, it made a huge mess of things. I made a huge mess of things. I wanted to push her away, I want her to hate me…no I don't. But that's the only way she'll leave me alone, is if she did. I want her to avoid me at all costs, so that we're not close and so that she can get the hell out of here safely…or maybe I want things back to the way they were because if she gets taken I don't want to feel more than I need to.

Selfish, isn't it?

Maybe. But so is the fact that since this morning's encounter with Yuri I haven't stopped thinking about her and what I wanted to do and what had happened between us. And then all I can really remember is wanting to kiss her again. I've never thought so much about something and that got me angry. Where the hell did she get off making me think of her like that? This is all her fault.

So I took out my frustration on her.

I'm not saying I'm proud of my actions. I'm a fucking stupid fucking moron, asshole, bastard and any other word I'm sure can be put behind those ones.

But curiously, there's one more feeling that's been eating away at me since I left her out on the cold terrace.

Fear.

I've never noticed it so visibly, but tonight when I all of a sudden lost control of myself and lashed out at the person closest to me – her – I've been, for lack of better terms, freaking out. I've never felt that before – like I was in no control over my actions, like something else was pushing the buttons. And I was helplessly watching in the background, like a spectre.

I think I'm developing some kind of psychological disorder. All this stress is finally getting to me. I'm sure of it. I need to get out. Get the hell out of here.

With these thoughts in mind, I actually move into a sitting position, my decision to finally leave coming to mind. It's the perfect time, with no one awake, and –

Before I can make another move, or even think, there's a sudden blood-curdling scream that shatters the silence of the hotel suite, so high and pain filled, for a moment I have to cover my ears just so that I can get my bearings and senses back. The screaming continues, like someone being tortured –

_– fire encompassing a body, it's features already hopelessly disfigured by the flames, a long, wail of pain, the mouth wide and gaping, blood burning before it even hits the ground. I can hear and feel the flames licking around me._

_I need to get out. I need to save – _

"Chaya! Chaya, are you okay!"

The sound of feet thunders past me and I blink out of the sudden hallucination to see Max running towards his sister's room, Tyson and Ray close behind him. He's in her room, the light's are on and I hear him trying to comfort her, but what he's saying is lost in the wails and shrieks.

"Leave me alone! Don't touch me, Fass mich nicht an! Hanase!DON'T TOUCH ME!" she chokes, her yells getting more frantic, and I hear something like a scuffle. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

I'm on my feet and moving towards her room when the door bursts open, revealing Daitenji-san and several other hotel patrons, all dressed for bed and looking curiously and worried into out suite. Daitenji waddles, in yelling at me to tell him what's going on.

I can only guess at what's going on, but something tells me her nightmares have finally caught up with her.

I follow at the old man's heals, crowding into the room that she so religiously kept us out of. The sight before me makes my mouth run dry.

She's thrashing about, backing into the head bored, a haunted look on her face as she shrinks away from her brother's touch. I feel cold when I notice the trickle of blood escaping the corner of her mouth and running down her chin, as well as the bloody scratch on her brother's face – from her nails, I think. Daitenji is yelling at her to calm down, obviously unsure of what's going. It's obvious that she's not having a seizure, but he seems to think she's having one. He tells us to watch her, he's going to call an ambulance or some kind of medic. I hear something else about sedating her before he completely disappears.

My mind seems to suddenly buzz to life. If he sedates her, she'll go back to sleep and be trapped in more nightmares that she can't escape. I don't hesitate, before striding forward and hauling Kon around. "Get him back here. Don't let him get a medic."

"What?" he looks at me as though I'm insane. "Hiwatari, she's – "

"She's fine, leave her to me and get Daitenji, damn it," I growl, and after a moment, he nods, jogging out, followed by a pale Hagoshimi.

She's thrashing and screaming, kicking out at Tate and Kinomiya, yelling in panic, her words jumbling together in all the languages that she knows, but mostly I can understand English in the mix. "_Don't, please don't make me, leave me alone, I don't want – NOOOOO!"_

"Get out of here. Get those stupid people from the hall out of our suite," I order and Kinomiya glares at me. Tate, surprisingly, looks merely confused.

"Who died and made you boss?" the Japanese kid demands, glaring at me with dislike.

I grab him by the front of his shirt, holding him there painfully, very much ready to beat the hell out of him. "Do as I say unless you want me to rearrange your face, Kinomiya."

"_Zakennayo_, Hiwatari."

Max intervenes, having finally (painfully) left his sister crying and begging on the bed, clawing at the mattress and blankets in terror, now screaming in almost pain. He pushes the two of us apart and says quietly, "Come on, Takao."

Kinomiya looks confused. "But…Maxie, your siste – "

"Come on, Takao," he pushes him towards the door. Before he closes it behind him, he looks at me and narrows his eyes. "You hurt her any more, Hiwatari, and I'll kill you."

And we're alone, her screams still reverberating off of the walls.

Me hurt her anymore? Tate, you're a few hours too late…

I move closer. She notices me, her eyes void of recognition and recoils, shrieking, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looks horrible, pained and weak-looking, these sobs and cries taking more energy from her than she has to give. The circles under her eyes seem to have darkened to a sickly grey.

The closer I moved, the more she inches away, and the harder her thrashing becomes. I can't just loom here not doing anything, because every time I try to get closer she shrieks louder. I only have a few seconds before the others decide to come back – unless they spend all that time convincing Daitenji not to get her a doctor.

That's the most important thing. If someone takes a look at her, their going to mistake her problems with that damn bitbeast for something like schizophrenia or something. I have to get her calm somehow – but to do that, I'm going to have to do something drastic.

So I tackle her to the bed. Seems like a good enough idea.

"_Auxilum__ ego!"_

I actually manage to wrestle her around so that she's not thrashing and using up all over her energy, but not without some kind of injury. One of her fists comes at me full-throttle and before I can duck, she's landed a hard blow to my nose and I feel blood gushing down my face, spilling over my lips so much that I can taste the metallic tinge in my mouth. I try to muffle the cry of pain and feel myself tense when some of my blood spills from my face into her hair and around the sheets. She's still screaming. "Auxilum ego! Unhand me! Let me go, _commodo_ _theos__, serva me!_ _Non intellego!"_

I don't know what she's saying or what she means and wish her voice didn't sound that low and hysterical.

I notice something, suddenly, grunting as I try to keep her from lashing out again. There's still that trickle of blood running down her chin, as though she's biting her tongue or lips. A shudder slices through me.

_- I glance down at my wrists. The wounds are open and flowing, and when I look back up, she's apologetic. "I'm sorry, but it only works with a connection to someone's life force. And the only one that was really on hand was…" - _

She once used my blood to show me her nightmares. It took a lot of energy out of her, energy she doesn't even have now. But maybe, just maybe, I can share the burden. Maybe if I see what she sees, I can take some of what's slowly driving her insane.

That is, if that psycho spirit will let me,

Instinctively, I look past her hair, trying to catch sight of my wrists, which are hidden by my sweater.

Damn it. I can't get to them from here.

But maybe…I glance back to her face, hissing as one of her hands comes free and she aims a punch for my stomach, crying and mumbling, the blood escaping from her mouth, her teeth stained with it. I think it's really possible she bit her tongue. She's shaking so badly the bed's moving. My face hurts and I remember the blood from the wound she gave me moments ago and how my lips are as stained with blood as hers.

'It's not going to get any fresher,' I think grimly, ducking my head forward to do the one thing I really don't want to do. Both because of the danger it poses the two of us and the fact that I feel like shit taking advantage of the situation like this.

I press my mouth tightly against hers, practically pressing her head into the mattress so that she can't move away, and keeping as still as I can despite her struggles. She let's out a few panicked sounds, words that are muffled and choked, and every time she tries to get free, I tighten my hold on her. Just a little longer…I hope…I can feel her teeth through her lips and wince at her movements as they bump and smack against my nose in her attempts to free herself. Just a little…

Everything suddenly disappears from my vision, almost as though a huge vacuum consumed it, replacing it with a dark film, and waves of sickening, blistering pain explode throughout my body as though every organ suddenly burst into flames. I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head, even though I still see the same black haze.

I expect it to ebb away like it did the last time I was given a demonstration of her subconscious, but this time it's different. This time the pain is increasing, crushing, burning, stabbing me through with pain. I can slowly see past the haze, but that's not much of an improvement. It's a sea of a red. A sea of blood before me. I can hear cries and screams. People are dying. I taste blood in my mouth, rolling down my throat at a sickening rate, gluttonous and slippery and I gag, wanting to throw up but find myself so weak I can only endure. There's the clash of weapons, curses, someone whispering orders into my ears, but I can't understand what they're saying. All I know is that I don't want to follow these orders.

The massacre is everywhere, and my hands are not at rest as they slice through the faces and bodies of men, women and even children. I feel myself retch when I see an infant being tossed up and caught on a spear, the blood mingling with the scent of death. I scream, but no sound comes out, and my hands join the fray as I catch the blood that spills from the sky, almost like rain.

I'm being pushed, farther and farther into the deepest, most deadly parts of the battle or massacre, whatever this is. Someone is pushing me and…I feel myself being stabbed, again and again, from different sides, different people. They all die before they can complete but two shots, and my nails are caked with their blood. I notice vaguely that no matter how many times I'm slashed, I don't die. I keep walking on into the fray, the blood in my mouth, my eyes, down my throat.

The sounds of steal against flesh, along with my stained body are dizzying, but I have to keep going. I have to, because I was ordered to. I have to because…because…

The blood is the last thing I see, and I find myself back in the hotel room, lying limply over Chaya – who seems to be unconscious beneath me. Almost as though she's finally used up the last of her strength. But there are no nightmares and there's no pained expression on her face, I notice as I slowly push myself up. Our mingled blood is dried on to her face, and I'm sure it's on mine as well, but that doesn't matter.

There's a horrible pounding at the door, and I realize it must be the others trying to get in. That's strange, this door doesn't lock, I remember vaguely, sitting up and staring over at it curiously, trying to shake the remnants of the pain out of my joints. It's curious because my body didn't undergo any strain but I still feel the sharp blades slicing into me.

For a moment I see a flash, almost like a flame, but it's gone an instant later like it never existed. I glance at Chaya, wondering if maybe her sacred spirit decided to cut me some slack and give us a few moments. Almost as soon as I look away, the door bursts open and in bounds her brother, Kinomiya, Kon, Daitenji and some man I don't know.

A doctor.

Damn it. Fucking Daitenji.

Tate rushes to his sister's side, but the rest are staring at me in shock. I blink, realizing I must look interesting, what with the blood all over my face. Daitenji looks like he might wet himself. "Hiwatari-san…I…what is the meaning of…what…happened?"

"She had a nightmare, Daitenji-san, that's all," I reply stonily. "I guess she couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't for a moment and that's why she went hysterical. She has been under a lot of stress lately, which would account for the nightmare." I glance at the doctor, who nods and mumbles to Daitenji how I do have a point and how he knows what a tight schedule we're under.

Daitenji keeps trying to have her checked out, but I head him off at every turn, passing Chaya's weak appearance as not being used to the sudden change in climate – again, the doctor agrees with me. After a while he seems to be getting annoyed with Daitenji for having dragged him away from his work for something that can easily be seen to by one of us.

"Why do you both have blood on you faces?" Kinomiya wants to know, not staying out of business that's not his. I glare at him, but look easily back to Daitenji. I vaguely note that I'm still sitting on the bed next to her, once in a while checking to make sure she's breathing. Obviously my attempts to be indifferent towards her are turning out to be bombs. Damn it, that stupid bitbeast is messing things up for the two of us. Maybe it really is trying get both of us killed, not just her.

"She punched me," I say simply, trying to tell as much of the truth that I can. Kinomiya whoops happily at the news and I resist the urge to reach over and hit him. "I was trying to get her to calm down and she punched me. It seems I bled all over her. Maybe someone could get a towel – and fresh sheets?"

There's a hurried movement all around. The doctor does check her for fever and pupil dilation, before prescribing her some mild sleeping pills to help her sleep at night. He's noticed that she seems tired. Says she might be an insomniac. Nobody really cares what he has to say, and I have a feeling when she wakes up and sees the prescription she'll throw it out and pretend never to have even heard about it.

Daitenji shows him out sheepishly, while Tate mops his sister's face of all the blood. After a momentary debate it's decides we'll leave the sheets until tomorrow and leave her for the night. I feel relief at how out-cold she is, her face void of any tension or feelings. Just completely calm. There's no fake smile on her face, which is really somethi –

"Hey Hiwatari – how come you haven't left yet?"

I really do want to hit that moron Kinomiya. He's such a damn idiot. I narrow my eyes at him from my spot on the bed. He's got a point. I haven't moved from the bed since everyone came back in, giving orders from my place. It takes me a moment to understand why.

She has a death grip on my right wrist.

And she's still asleep.

I hold back a smirk and look at Kinomiya, holding up my wrist which she cleaves to despite its movement. "You try getting out of this."

He makes a face, while her brother continues to just look worried. He's obviously completely stricken by what happened tonight. Well, how come the idiot never noticed what his own sister was going through, I wonder somewhat peevishly.

Kon decides to speak up for once, clearing his throat. "Well…I think it's a safe bet that we should take turns watching over her – just for tonight. In case…whatever just happened happens again." There's a murmur of agreement between the other three, before Kon looks back at me. "And considering Hiwatari-san can't get away right now – "now he smirks at me, catlike and smug, "I think you should get first watch."

Hm, it seems Kon can be just as annoying as Kinomiya. I don't want to be alone with her longer than I have to. I've already screwed this up enough so that she might still be in danger. But I don't argue with them, knowing other wise she'll end up being force-fed those stupid prescription pills.

I wait until everyone's gone to push the small vile of pills down into the recesses of the mattress, before shifting so that I'm more comfortable. She's dead asleep, but something tells me it's only Sleep this time and not a prison-like nightmare. Several times I try to pry her fingers from my wrist, considering I'm beginning to lose circulation, but she refuses to let go.

Stupid girl.

'Eventually she'll let go,' I decide, lying down close to her and just studying her face. She snores softly and I can't help but smirk, straining the muscles in my face after so much disuse. It disappears mere milliseconds after it appeared. 'And when she does I'll be out of here, getting as far away from her and the team as I can.'

* * *

TBC 

Note: I don't pretend to know Japanese or Latin overly well so if I made some mistakes...well you can either tell me or leave it. Either way works for me...

And now the real fun begins…for me, anyway. I'm sure you'll all accuse me of being over angsty – well get over it. That's how this fic is being written. The really funky part of the story starts in about three chapters…

Kuriness


	15. Ertrinken

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: When I said disturbing I MEANT IT!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Ertrinken

I don't know how long I've been awake. I can't remember opening my eyes or anything else for that matter.

I have awoken from nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

For a time I just lie here, paralyzed. I wonder ifthe reason is that Ican't move or it I just don't want to. Who knows? I do know one thing though.

I'm scared shitless.

I have never slept through an entire night. Have never not had nightmares that plagued me. It's strange. I remember having a vision of carnage, the taste of death and destruction on my tongue, but it's so distant that it's like…like a memory of something you watched on television. Something that's so easily forgettable that you have to actually strain your mind to remember.

I finally manage to turn over, my body feeling heavy like it's been pumped with lead. My muscles strain and I feel prickles of pain all over my skin, almost like some sort of fading sunburn.

I can smell blood in the air and I sense some other ominous scent but can't put my finger on it. The blood scent is not a dream or the remnant of one. It was actually shed here. But as I look around I can find no trace of it.

Why do I feel so useless this morning?

I don't know how long it takes me to finally find the strength to sit up, but when I do, I instantly regret it. Memories of last night flood my mind and with them I feel my heart constrict to the breaking point.

Kai.

I can feel the bruises of where he grabbed me almost blossoming up in pain as they are recalled and my back stings. Slowly and almost like a slug I reach for the hem of my night-shirt and pull up the back until I feel the air nipping at my naked shoulder blades. Turning as far as I can and wincing as this movement stretches my skin, I glance into the mirror of the room, wincing when I notice the long, angry red welts and scratches from where he had pushed me up against both the balcony and the wall.

Jesus, I knew he was being rough, but I didn't know he was being that rough.

That bastard. Why the hell would he do something like that! He was normal for one second and then he…ugh, what's the point even trying to figure him out? Maybe I should just give up on him. You know, considering that's what he pretty much wants me to do anyway…

_'Finally making some intelligent decisions, are you?'_

I freeze.

No, no, no, please no…

_'Oh stop your mindless whining, it will get you nowhere. Honestly, one would think you'd have learned that by now?'_

Why can't she just leave me alone? I don't want…I don't want…I just don't want!

"Leave me alone," I whisper to the emptiness of my room, letting my shirt fall back, and then leaning forward so that I'm curling into my knees. "Just leave me alone."

_'Stop wishing for what will never happen. And stop moping over Dranzer's master. He's dangerous and it is well that he put an end to your little insurrection.'_

"Leave him out of this you psycho," I snap, glaring up at the mirror. My reflection looks back at me, only it's warped and hard looking. My eyes are an endless, sinister black and my facial features and body structure is more pale and pointed. She shines through. "Kai's not dangerous."

_'You think so?'_ she sounds amused and my reflection's eyes darken. _'You are blind, girl.'_

"And you're ugly. You don't see me complaining," I snap.

I barely registering myself moving, but for the sharp, jarring pain up my back as I'm thrown into the wall, nicking my head on the cabinet close by and smacking my hand against the window's edge. My legs are still wrapped in my bed sheets despite me being about four feet from the bed and I'm dizzy.

If anyone else had been around they would probably be thinking that I threw myself off of the bed.

_'I will not tolerate your insolence for much longer, mortal.'_

"Than go ahead and kill me," I growl, pulling myself off of the ground and holding back a cry of pain as I stand. My back's on fire and my bones still ache. "I'm sick of being your stronghold."

High, cold laughter. She thinks this is funny. It's an argument I've put forth a lot these past few months, one she constantly ignores. _'Stupid girl, how many times must I tell you that I can only achieve my ultimate powers through a whiny mortal host such as yourself?'_

"Find someone else."

She ignores me and I feel the same cold as always enveloping me. I shake it off. I'm surprised when she speaks again. She's never this chatty.

_'Believe me, it's not because I enjoy your stimulating conversation…there is a matter that we have to discuss, whether you want to or not. As I said before, the master of Dranzer is a danger. Not only to you. To others. To your world. He is a tool.'_

"What are you talking about," I groan, stumbling towards the door of my room, desperate to get out of this stifling room and trying to escape her even though I know she's still with me, no matter where I go. The childish wish to just walk out on her clouds the facts of my reality. When I yank open the door I'm both relieved and shattered to realize that no one's around. She sometimes leaves me alone when there are others about.

The note on the room door is from Kyioujiu. He says that Kai disappeared this morning and Takao, Max and Rei went to look for him. Beneath that is a note about him leaving for a few minutes to use the internet café downstairs – apparently Dizzy's offline for some reason.

_'So, he has realized his capabilities then,_' Zorn sounds like she's musing. _'At least he had the decency to remove himself from civilization. It makes things much easier.'_

"I'm sorry, easier for what?" I ask, hearing the edge in my voice. I've stopped walking and am just standing in the small hallway between my room and the bathroom. Apprehension rises and I can't help suddenly being worried. Anyone would be worried with Zorn plotting something. "Easier for what?"

_'To kill him_.'

A ringing silence follows. My mind doesn't want to grasp what she just said. It's impossible. It's improbable. It makes absolutely no sense…I'm thinking, I'm trying to understand this, but nothing's making sense. There are no connections. Why? Why would she want to hurt Kai? Hasn't she hurt enough people, me involved, what did he ever do to –

_'It is not what he has done, but what he will do. As I said before, he is a tool_.'

"A tool for what?" I demand, and all of a sudden a torrent of anger just bursts out of me in a tide of emotion. I stalk heavily to the bathroom, shoving the door back so hard that it bangs into the wall and creates a denting crater. Her face in mine stares back at me, almost reproachfully, as I glare into the looking-glass. "He's not a tool, he's a person! And whatever gave you the impression that he would do something against…against the world!"

She sounds amused. _'Don't tell me you have absolutely no reason to believe he might become unbalanced?'_

Immediately she brings up an image of the jarring blow to my back from yesterday, but I steal myself. "That was…different. Kai has his own inner demons – maybe none as psychotic as you, but he still has them.'

She grins at me, sinister and evil_. 'Oh, child, you have no idea. Perhaps you weren't in the vicinity when I was telling him some facts about sacred spirits, so I'll let you in on a few life secrets_.' I swallow at the tone she uses to say that. _'Some sacred-spirits are able to coexist with their mortal counterparts to a conscious extent – as you know very well. With others it is not so. It also depends on the strength of the spirit to manifest itself visibly. For the last few years, the beast you and the other mortals know as Dranzer has laid dormant within the boy, her unconscious powers called up in your silly little games. She has not been a threat to the human world because your friend has not known the extent of power within him. But for some reason – '_ here her voice suddenly sounds bitter and confused, '_ – in the past few months I have felt the stirrings of the spirit within. I attempted to warn him…but I don't believe the boy is strong enough to control the beast within.'_

She stops talking and looks at me pointedly. I'm gaping at her, trying to make sense of everything she just told me."I'm still not seeing what you want to kill him for," I manage coolly, crossing my arms. "You've fully manifested yourself and you're not wreaking havoc on the world."

Her eyes glint maliciously. '_And what makes you think I wouldn't if I could? You're body is more than a suitable prison.'_ I feel chilled as she says this, but relax a little when for the first time I notice her eyes almost soften. _'But I have long since learned the lesson of this. I am not the one that humankind should fear.'_

"That's ironic considering all I see when it comes to you is death and destruction."

_'Hush. Now – _'

"No, stop it," I order. "You still didn't answer my question. What's so bad about Dranzer manifesting herself? Wouldn't that just give you another bitbeast to talk to?"

_'You are naïve. Dranzer has always been a proud spirit, driven by desires and powers that I can not even begin to fathom. She is one of the four elemental spirits of creation and quite possibly the strongest. She could single-handedly bring about the destruction of this world. And perhaps beyond.'_

"I think you're getting a little dramatic," I tell her plainly. "And you said there were four elemental spirits. Can't the other three just gang up and beat her down?"

_'Not without destroying the balance. But as I was saying – '_

"Where are these other bitbeasts? They could at least help – "

_'They are content within the rest of your team-mates. I doubt they will show themselves – '_

"In my other teammates? You mean that Rei and Takao and Maxie all have basically three parts to what created…created everything!" My voice is loud and wondering because I can't grasp this. That much power between people that I practically grew up with? "Wait a second – if destroying Dranzer would upset the balance, why are you going to try and kill her?"

_'I would never even consider destroying Dranzer_,' Zorn sounds angered and filled with frustration. _'Dranzer is essential to the world, but must remain dormant. It is the boy, Kai, who must cease to exist.'_

And we're back to the entire point of this conversation. I feel my hands form into tight balls, my fingers clenched as I glare. "And what will killing Kai do?"

_'Force her to move on to her next mortal host, one that is not so near the danger of exposing her. His reincarnation, I expect.'_

"In danger of exposing her? Where the hell are you getting your information? Kai would never – "

An explosion of sorts takes place in my head, making me grab onto the edge of the sink in effort to keep myself from falling over at the shock of the angry, booming voice of the spirit within me. _'Do not question me, you insignificant sack of flesh! Was it not this same boy that betrayed you as well as your companions to join another group with designs on power and world domination? And he was offered a scientific double of one of the most powerful spirits in creation to gain mastery over the human race – and it was only by yours and your friends intervention that he came out of that without harm! And now the same group is about this place, no doubt their motives have not changed and this time, Dranzer is on the brink of emergence! Do you not understand the depth of this? How would you like to see all that you love disappear in a fiery chasm?'_

I stare stiffly at her, feeling a tightness behind my eyes. "I would rather see that happen then for you to hurt him." I try to draw myself up to my full height, trying to look imposing but knowing that I'm failing miserably. "I won't let you kill him."

She leers at me. _'I'm not going to kill him, you fool. You are.'_

This proclamation is the one. Every other thought leaves me and I feel something within me brake, almost as though it was cut loose. Madness, madness, madness…

'Drowning…'

Frantically I look about, catching sight of my brother's razor and I grab it, holding it poised above my wrist at a fair angle. "I won't. I'll kill myself first."

_'Admirable of you, really_.' She comments, looking amused at my antics. _'But considering you will probably pass out before you actually die and I will have enough time to heal and revive you, I highly doubt your intentions are true.'_

The wind completely taken from my sails, my knees give out and I find myself sliding downward, my forehead pressed against the edge of the sink. The razor clatters to the floor, but not before nicking the side of my thump on its way down. I stare at the speck of my blood uncomprehendingly. Why are there no images?

Why is there no scent?

Why is it that as I breathe in, it's merely taking in air. I don't feel anything anymore. There's no scent or essence or feelings associated to anything. I'm touching the tiles of the floor and they should feel cold, but they don't. I finally know this feeling. I finally know emptiness. And even the pitying words in my ear aren't enough to make me want…want to care.

'Go away. Leave me alone.'

_'You selfish child, you would prefer to save a friend over your entire race. You stupid, foolish child – don't you dare ignore me.'_

I see myself standing, but it's through different eyes. Obviously it is the same for her. She's not the one controlling my body. Then who is?

_'Where do you think you're going?'_

"Away from you," the words on my lips aren't my own, but even as they are spoken I agree with them. Just let me go, alone, alone, away from you. Floating and drowing and…

_'You can not escape me no matter how you try. I am with you always, or haven't you learned that now?'_

'I can't hear you. I won't hear you. I won't let myself hear you. Not you or your cold, evil words that speak of reality, that just echoes…I won't let you…'

"Chaya! Where are you going?"

I can sense myself pushing past Kyoujiu and my bare feet slapping against the rough carpet of the hotel. But even though I feel the sensation I am numb to it. I just don't care. I block out everything, concentrating on one thing.

'Just one foot in front of the other. Just keep going.'

I won't kill him. I won't hurt him more than he has already been hurt by those bastards in his past. I mean what I said. I will die first before I do that…and not even you, you spiteful harpy, are going to stop me.

_

* * *

TBC _

_Well that chapter turned out more interesting than I had originally thought. Hope you enjoyed it everyone,_

_Kuriness_


	16. Geheimnis

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao, who created Beyblade

Note: When I said disturbing I MEANT IT!

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Geheimnis

"She tried to commit suicide, you know."

I feel myself jump forcefully and stare up towards the owner of the voice. I'm more than surprised to see Max Tate staring down at me calculatingly, all traces of his usually cheerful smile having disappeared from his face. He looks strangely cold and severe, his eyes cool and serious and his jaw set. I can suddenly see the real resemblance between him and his sister.

"What do you mean?" I ask, having to work hard to control my voice. It's shaking and I don't know why. The snow has stopped falling, finally, but that doesn't change the fact that the statue of Yury Dolgoruky that I'm leaning against looks like it's wearing a wig of the white stuff. My few pieces of luggage lie near my, getting damp and cold in the winter's snow. I've been gone for an hour or so now. I wonder if Chaya's woken up yet…she's slept like the dead since last night…

"Chaya. She tried to kill herself," he says slowly, sizing me up. "The first time was when we were seven."

"The first?" I hear myself and he nods. I continue to stare at him as he moves forward, tightening his coat around him and sitting next to me. He stops looking at me and instead looks back towards the Kremlin fortress, a gaze of remembrance in his eyes. "It was just after she first discovered that stupid bitbeast of hers. We were visiting the Eiffel tower with family. Afterwards…she said she was only leaning over to get a look at the view, but…" He laughs, almost bitterly. "She was really just trying to jump. Her clothes got caught on the railing and we managed to get her up in time. Our parents didn't mind yelling at her about being more careful and how she shouldn't scare them…and at the time I was too young and stupid to know what she had been trying to do. I'm surprised even she knew what she was trying to do back then. I didn't even realize it until a few months later when she collapsed in the solo tournaments."

I grip my knees tightly, my need to hear what he's telling me outstripping my need to get away from the team. How did he even find me? Actually, I think I know. He shares the trait with his sister. They both seem to be able to locate things that should remain hidden.

"And you were there when she tried again," he continued. "With the crystallis."

I'm confused. I cast a glance in his direction and for the first time tonight he meets my gaze head-on. I'm unnerved by the empty blue eyes that stare back at me.

"We both know that thing was lethal. I mean, when Takao and I touched it we practically burned our palms off. It was like touching lightening. And she stood there and let it fry her and make her into part of it. Why else would she have done it?"

I think of a few reasons, but don't voice them. However, he seems to know where my thoughts are leading me. "To get rid off that bitbeast? No, I don't think she was even thinking of that at the time. She was too desperate to get close to the crystallis to care if it could rid her of Zorn. She was trying to end it all."

"And you're basing this on what?" I ask, trying to remain calm and collect.

"On my knowledge as her brother," he says, his voice sharp. "What both you and Chaya don't seem to get is that I know. I know about everything. I know about those nightmares and I know about her subconscious turning her into a murderer – hell, I even know about the cheap cigarettes she hides in her bag, not that it's important." He smirks ruefully. "But she still thinks she's hiding it."

Anger fires up in me. "If you knew, why didn't you tell her? She might have had less of a time trying to endure this on her own. She needed someone to talk to."

He sends me a wry look. "If you were Chaya and I came up to you and told you I knew about your homicidal nightmares and suicidal tendencies, what would you do?"

I open my mouth, about to tell him I wouldn't hesitate to talk to him, when I remember that that's the outer Chaya; the old one that I knew for a short time before meeting her real self. The old self is pretty much dead to me. I lower my voice as I answer, "I'd probably tell you that I thought you were insane and that maybe you shouldn't eat too much sugar."

He laughs, again with the bitter tone lacing through it. "Exactly. I'm not the one that can help her. I can't understand what she's going through. I can only try, based on what I see and hear. But you –" he looks me over again, "– you're exactly what my sister needs.

A flush of warmth strikes somewhere within me before it's washed away with the cold feeling of reality. "You don't know what you're saying, Tate."

"Bullshit, I know exactly what I'm saying," he tells me plainly, the force in his tone surprising me. "But here's something else that you don't know. The crystallis isn't the last time she tried to kill herself. She tried to drown herself in the bathtub a few months later. And she jumped in front of a moving train after that. I don't even think she's conscious of it anymore. I know she's tried about a million more times that none of us ever sees. Something always saves her at the last second. But I don't know how much more she can escape death again." He fixes me in a dark scowl. "She completely stopped trying a few weeks back. Want to know why, Hiwatari-san?"

No, I don't want to know. But I have a feeling he's going to tell me anyway.

"Because for the first time she actually had a friend. She found an equal in you where she couldn't find it in anyone else. And I think she might have helped you with whatever issues you have as well."

I narrow my eyes, wondering how much this seemingly naïve boy knows about me, but it seems his knowledge is limited to only his sister's doings. I clear my throat, "In case you haven't noticed, we decided that our…relationship wasn't beneficial to either of us and that is should be left as it was."

He makes a face. "Are you saying you're not friends?"

"I'm saying we never were."

Max doesn't look impressed. "Tell that to the pictures in the news that show you in a less than platonic hold – and to the fact that last night you seemed to be the only one that could actually bring her out of that…episode she was in. And to the fake smiles she's been wearing ever since you decided that 'your relationship wasn't beneficial to either of you'. I bet you didn't even ask her about her opinion."

"Because I already knew her opinion," I snap.

"Then why didn't you want to hear it? Why didn't you respect it, like a real friend should?"

"Because I don't deserve to be her friend and she doesn't deserve what being close to me can do to her," I snap. "You think she's in pain now? Just wait. I've done enough damage already. I give it about a month before you start to rethink saying I'm the best thing that's happened to her."

He raises an eyebrow, as though he can tell I'm serious. "Did you explain this to her?" I open my mouth, close it again, and look away. "You didn't, did you?" He swears in English and then glares at me. "Why the hell not?"

"Because knowing Chaya, if I told her I was keeping my distance for a reason she would want to know why. And she'd badger me until she got the reason. And it's just better for her not to know."

"And when whatever happens that you're afraid will?" he demands. "Wouldn't it be a good idea for her to be in on it so that she can take care of herself? She thinks you hate her guts, you asshole."

"Good, then she won't put herself in danger before she has to – you don't seem to get that what's happening is inevitable. I can't stop it and I feel like killing myself just for getting her into this mess."

"But you're not going to stick around to see if she'll be alright? You're just going to turn coward and run?" I leap up at his words, instantly angered. Max's stance becomes tense, defensive. "Don't give me that. You know exactly what you're doing. And you're not bothered by it. It's just like with Black Dranzer. You abandoned everyone just for your own selfish mean – "

Before I can stop myself – scratch that, before I've even noticed that I've moved – I've lashed out and landed a blow on the blond American's face, watching with numbed feelings as the bruise begins to blossom on his cheek-bone. I'm breathing hard and my scars feel as though they're on fire once again. That detached reality that I felt when I practically attacked Chaya is back again and I shiver. What the hell's wrong with me?

_'The scream of pain makes me cry as agony burns into my skin'_

Max's face is still facing to one side in the direction that I punched him, and although I can see his eyes, I can't see the expression in his eyes. Steam rises from both of out mouths, our breath freezing as it touches the air. His entire demeanor, although tense, is slightly calmer than mine is. After the longest moment he shakes his head and snorts. "I guess you're right, Hiwatari. You're really not worth it." He looks up, his eyes blazing blue fire I've only ever seen him direct towards those of his utmost loath. "How's that make you feel, anyway? Having every body worry about you to no end – I mean, we all know you're trying to leave us again – and not have to lift a finger and not to deserve any of it? Man, if this is how you treat your friends, you're enemies must be wishing they were dead a million times over."

"Shut up."

He straightens up to his full height, reminding me that he's an inch taller than I am. "What, can't handle the truth? You're a deserting, cowardly scum that can't even accept your own feelings or those of someone else."

"I'm warning you, Tate – "

"I hope whatever it is you're so goddamned afraid of catches up with you. Then maybe you'll finally really understand Chaya. Sure, you got the whole nightmares and pain part, but to be eternally afraid of something?" He seems to loom even taller. "How do you think she's managed to last so long, Hiwatari? If it were me I'd have driven myself insane within a week or so. And even you've got to admit that if you saw what she does every night, you would too. Maybe not in a week, but eventually."

I pause, reflecting on that. Even two minutes of her nightmares was unbearable for me, but one full night? And beyond? Her brother does have a point, and I feel sick admitting it.

_'Drowning.'_

"She's pushed herself to the breaking point trying to be some candy-coated version of normal and she found someone to help make it easier for her – someone to share – and then you leave her to rot." He sneers at me. "You're not even worth hating, you know that?"

_'Mat…'_

The sudden burst of rage comes over me again, heating me from head to toe and I lunge again, but to my surprise, Max catches my fist in one hand with great effort, and I feel myself tripped from behind. My head smacks against the ice beneath me, jarring my teeth and I feel the sudden weight of his foot against my chest, pressing me into the snowy ground. I can sense the stares of passersby but force myself to meet Max's glare head-on, wincing at the pressure above my lungs.

_'I don't want to do this…please stop…don't make me...'_

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he admits, suddenly looking a little less serious before returning to his original anger. "You're not getting up until we get some sense knocked into your head – so far I think we've got a little, but you're as stubborn as Chaya. We're bound to need a lot of time."

"Is this your new plan?" I snarl, grunting when he increases pressure and his boot digs into my ribs. "Beat me into agreeing with you? I never took you for a tyrant, Tate."

"When it comes to my family, I can be a fucking Nazi," he says simply. "Now. What have we learned today, Kai?"

The need to try to kill him is strong for the third time tonight, but I force it back, determined to not lose my head. If anything that will attract more attention than anything else that's happened tonight. I'm dizzy, and the snow falling onto my face isn't helping. The vortex of white makes me nauseated.

_'A thundering roar rushes towards me, louder and louder, closer and closer – fire encompassing a body, it's features already hopelessly disfigured by the flames, a long, wail of pain, the mouth wide and gaping, blood burning before it even hits the ground. I can hear and feel the flames licking around me.'_

"Get off of my, Tate, I'm warning you…"

"You keep saying that, but you're not doing anything," he says calmly. "Maybe you want me to keep pointing out your mistakes and your problems. Maybe it makes you feel less guilty?"

_'A voice that's far from my own.__ I can't hear you. I won't hear you, not when you speak of the realities of my evils, the echoes of my being…'_

"MAX!"

I wince as I turn around, the pain of trying to escape the firmly pressed boot on my chest a hard feat. I can slowly make out the shapes of the rest of the team, Hagoshimi in the lead. Max loosens his hold on me for a moment and it's enough for me to force myself out from under him and stand again. I go to make a run for it, when –

"MAX! Chaya's missing!"

I freeze and I feel as though my heart was just tossed off of a forty-floor building. My legs feel as though they are rooted into the ice and I don't manage to run off before Kinomiya, Kon and Hagoshimi are in front of Max and I, all looking worried. Max looks stricken.

"What do you mean, she's gone? Where did she go?"

He's frantic and although I don't voice it, I feel the same. She's gone? Boris…he couldn't have already…?

"I don't know!" Hagoshimi yells frantically. "I left the room for like two minutes, just to check out the BBA stats in the internet café – and when I came back she was bolting from the room, muttering to herself! She was really distracted – and I mean really, because she didn't just not hear me call, she forgot her boat and boots."

A muted relief that Biovolt is not responsible for her disappearance floods upwards, but it's not enough to make my heart stop constricting.

"What!" Max demands. "You mean my sister is running around Moscow not even dressed? She's going to catch pneumonia! She could get really sick, or worse – "

He suddenly stops, an unfocused look appearing in his eyes. After a moment he looks at me with the same look and I can all of a sudden understand his thought process.

'She wouldn't…'

"Hey, Hiwatari, what the hell are you doing out here? Where did you go, anyway? Hey, answer me!"

I ignore Takao.

'She would.'

_'I need to get out. I need to save – '_

To the loud exclamations of confusion and implorations to come back I'm suddenly running along the street, my boots pounding at the snowy pavement. People yell at me for bumping into them roughly, but they are all just a blur as I continue to run.

'_Just one foot in front of the other.__ Just keep going. Breathe. Live.'_

I veer onto Tverskaya Street, my feet slipping beneath me. I trip and slide into the snow, the icy substance scratching into the skin of my palm, but I'm up again. I scan the horizon, half expecting her to be on the bridge where we always stood. But I can't see her through the crowd. I pick up my speed, the lights and people flying past me in a paramount of colors and shapes that don't matter.

_'Die first…hurt…stop me…'_

And without warning, the streets are suddenly clear. It's as though everything just disappeared into thin air. Maybe that's the way it is because how else would no one else noticed the weary looking girl standing on the edge of the bridge, her eyes shut tightly. Her feet are bare, raw and bleeding and she's speaking.

How the hell am I the only one that's noticed this!

"CHAYA!"

Her head whips around just as I'm a few yards away from her. Her eyes are wide and panic filled, tinged with pain and something darker that I can only identify as Zorn. She's speaking to me, but so softly that the wind steals the words from her lips before I can hear them.

I do recognize one particular one though.

Goodbye.

And suddenly she's falling away.

Everything happens as though time has been slowed down to the millisecond. I'm reaching the edge and looking down, watching her fly downward and away from me, her eyes open one moment and then closed in resignation as though she's accepting her death.

I watch. I don't think. I'm moving. The wind slaps at my face and my scars burn along with the rest of my body.

_'There's a searing heat all around, assaulting me from all sides. I feel myself struggling for breath against a dense, thick mist and all I can see are the bright, violent flames. Someone speaks in harsh, breathing tones in a language I don't understand. I hear the flicker and snap of the flames and feel myself wince.'_

And I jump.

* * *

TBC 

How's that for a cliff-hanger? Where am I going with this, how will things turn out for our heros? Mwaha, if you're nice to me I might have the next chapter up in a day or so…

Wuvsies,

Kuriness


	17. Verdammt

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: When I said disturbing I MEANT IT!

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: Verdammt

Falling is eternal for one second. It just continues and you're trapped in a moment…just trapped. But you don't mind because the quickening feeling of the wind pulling you downwards is an almost pleasant feeling. And at the back of your mind you know that you're going to hit the ground and it will all be over, but between this time and that there's this amazing, rushing sensation.

For a moment I feel just like that. Time that's but a second stretches beyond comprehension, but I don't mind. I can try to keep the battle going in this time and possibly win.

I know she'll try to stop me, as she always does and always has. Each time I can fight it a little stronger than the last, but this time I might make it…my actions at the hotel convinced me I could. I managed to block her out. Even though I could hear her and she was still there, I could force my body to move on its own – to get here.

She's laughing at me, but I concentrate on the sound of the snow beneath me, the wind pushing me closer to the ice. It will probably crash when I hit it. The last time I checked before I jumped, it didn't look that strong.

Laughing again. I shut my eyes, trying to just let everything ebb away from my mind. Who knew that when you fall, it takes this long to actually hit the ground? Is it all just in my mind or is the time space continuum actually altered when you're hurtling to your death?

I can remember my name on his lips as I jumped and I try to concentrate on that. One last thought before –

My eyes fly open in horror when I suddenly feel arms around me. To my complete and shock, there's Kai. Right in front of me. Falling above me, but how is he holding on to me? And what's that terrifying heat that's enveloping both of us? What the hell is he thinking, he could get hurt – or worse, he could die! And then…it would be my fault –

His expression is drawn into one of total concentration and his arms around me tighten almost to the point of suffocation. Is this really happening in the span of a second? Maybe less than a second. But it's forever…in my mind.

I clench my eyes closed, waiting for the impact and the crash that will trap us beneath the brittle ice, and the images imprinted on the back of my eyelids are the color of fire and blood. I imagine that I can see two fiery wings and that's what's causing the swelling heat around me.

I open my mouth to scream but now words or sound escape and I'm left, trapped within myself as Zorn laughs and the heat burns –

I'm lying against the ground, the snow and the ice wetting my clothing and making my wounded back sting at the cold that spills through to my skin. Will my back be as bloody and frost-bitten as my feet are? I feel a weight on my chest, and it takes me a second to register the labored breathing that's near my ear. Kai's face is buried into my shoulder and I can feel him shaking.

I drift in a moment of silent eternity, before I actually manage to open my eyes. When I do, I can only stare about in wonder.

We're on the ice. The bridge looms above us, with people staring downwards, but for some reason it seems they can't see us. Neither of us moves and I know it's not just because we're trapped in yet another moment – if we move, the ice will break.

But why didn't it break already? Why aren't we dead? Even if it didn't break, from that altitude, we should be dead or in critical condition.

I want to scream and cry. She did it again. She stopped me again – but she also saved Kai, so –

_'Don't give me false credit, I did nothing. If your death would have brought about his, I was going to let it happen.'_

I'm cold all over and it has nothing to do with the weather.

Kai stirs, his movements pressing my back into the ice and I wince at the pain. I want to warn him not to move, or else we'll both go under, but he doesn't seem to care, because he's pushed himself up so that he's leaning over me, his arms on either side of my head. It seems I'm incapable of moving, for whatever reason.

And he's glaring at me.

The people above still can't see us and I have a feeling this _is_ Zorn's doing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice rivals even the ice beneath us, but all I can do is stare up at him. "You had the gall to fault me for cutting myself because it could hurt me and then you pull a stunt like this? What kind of a hypocrite are you?"

"Kai…"

"And apparently this isn't the first time either. And I thought I was the screwed up party here, but you – you should be in a hospital somewhere. With psychiatrists."

My anger sparks. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he snaps. "I don't care what kind of psycho-bitbeast you have in you, you could at least try."

"Try!" I demanded, forgoing the wish to punch him lest it send us both to a watery grave before I can yell at him. "_Try_! What the hell do you think I've been doing for the past eight years! If I hadn't tried, we never would have met and this whole mess wouldn't have started. Maybe it's better if I didn't!"

"Don't insult me with that trivial bullshit," he orders. "Yes, we know that you have some problems with the bitbeast. But getting rid of yourself won't do anything! First of all, it will just move on to its next source and take over their life and make them miserable – you at least can handle it – but what happens if she decides to take over some kid somewhere that goes insane and hurts people? How would you feel about that?" he's yelling at me now, his eyes glinting angrily in the moonlight. They're burning with a fire that makes me want to cringe, but I'm too frozen to move. "And what about everyone that you leave behind! What about your family – your brother! You got angry at me for having never bothered to meet my family, and then you decide to put yours through this? All to escape some one thing?"

"It wasn't just some one thing," I snarl, something catching in my throat. "It…she..." I choke, forcing myself to voice it, battling against her because she doesn't want me to say. "She wants me to kill you!"

He looks stricken for a moment, before leaning closer, his eyes more serious than I've ever seen them before – which is saying something. "Why?"

"Because…because you have Dranzer," I whisper, noticing dimly that I can't feel my back or my fingers anymore. I've also perceived that both Kai and I are shaking terribly. Painful shivers that if I could actually feel my back, I would be crying out. Maybe that's a small mercy on my part.

"Is that it?" he asks me, making me lose all thoughts in one go. "And will she leave you alone if you do?"

This question startles me. I don't know the answer to it and why is he asking something like that? Even at my wondering, I hear her, although not her voice. _'Yes.'_

My head is nodding and he looks pensive, before straightening up again. I hear the ice beneath us crack loudly, but neither of us seems to care.

"Then do it."

These words strike a cold chord in me that's more horrible than anything Zorn could do. Why would he say something like this? "W-what?"

"If the only thing that will make her leave you alone and stop you from killing yourself is me dying, then do it," he tells me coldly. "I don't have any friends or family that would care, and in the long run it's better that way. So do it."

Disbelief and numbness washes over me completely, and I'm staring up at the sky now as though it can tell me how to navigate my way out of this one. I'm brought back to that time when we rescued Kai from the ice two years ago. Is this some kind of fate thing? No matter how hard we tried, he's destined to die under the ice?

"Well? Do it."

His voice echoes and I look away from him. I don't want to see his face because it always reminds me of reality and of what needs to be done and of …and of his truth…

"…I can't."

My voice is barely more than a whisper, but both Kai and Zorn hear and pounce upon it like it's some loud curse.

He looks confused and angry. "Why not?"

_'You will do it, girl, you need to give in at some time.'_

"Why do you want to die so badly," I mumble to the skies, not looking at him. "I can understand my reasons, selfish as they are, but you? Not even loneliness is that strong for you Kai. You hate people anyway. Why would you agree to die so easily?"

Now it's his turn to be silent. I wish I could read his mind and know what he's thinking. I wish I knew why he decided to jump after me, if just to yell at me for being foolish. I wish I knew why he decided to destroy the friendship we had just because of what Daitenji-san said. I wish…what's the point? Wishes don't come true.

The silence goes on long enough for me to finally look at him, and find him actually contemplating my question. His cheeks are red and beaten from the wind and there's a large welt on his right palm that looks like he scraped it on something. Finally he moves, but doesn't look at me, reaching forward and pulling me up. The ice cracks again beneath us but he doesn't seem to notice it.

We're both kneeling, my bleeding bare feet screaming in pain and protest at touching the cold again and I imagine that I have frostbite and will probably have to have an amputation or something, or maybe I'll die of blood poisoning if I don't drown first.

"For as long as I've had Dranzer, there have been those that want to use that power for themselves, for conquest, for political power, for world domination, for world destruction," he tells me flatly. We're both on our knees and he's gripping my shoulders, although this time it's not tight or painful. His hands are warm, the contrast of heat and cold making me shiver more immensely. "For the first time someone wants to keep people from harm by not using Dranzer. And if that means me dying, than I understand and accept it."

I gape at him. He's willing to do exactly what I couldn't just to keep harm from coming to anyone. I try to take his words for bravery, but I can make out the weary undertones. He's tired of fighting the good fight. He doesn't want to be the sought after perfect weapon any longer.

"And this time it's worse," he continues, slowly and doubtfully, as though this is something he doesn't want to say but needs to anyhow. "This time they don't just want me or my power. They want you and Zorn. And if I try to protect you, people will die. And not only a few." He's grim. "Don't you think I know how much damage a sacred spirit like Dranzer could do? Especially if someone important to me is threatened?"

How can he be so calm about this? It's always taken me tremendous will-power to accept my death, because it just wasn't fair. It was never fair that I had this thing inside me that just hated and destroyed and turned my life into a living nightmare. But he – Kai just accepted this, point blank. He didn't need to think it over or anything, it's just yes. Maybe Zorn is right and I am a selfish person, but –

Wait.

Someone important?

All of a sudden, I see him in a completely different light. He's still glaring at me, despite the serious words and the obvious invitation to follow through with what Zorn wants me to do…but I can see something in his expression that he's trying to hide. And his words…someone important. Someone. Not something. Someone. Why would he say that if…

I want to cry. I really do. But thankfully some alien part of me is stronger than the rest, because I don't.

"So that's why you decided I wasn't worth being your friend," I murmur. "I get it now." I glare. "Although it was a pretty shitty way of saying it. You could have told me."

"I know. I'm sorry." I'm taken aback by his suddenly quiet and serious voice. He's holding on to my shoulder now, his fingers spreading warmth over my skin. "You brother's already seen to it that I feel like shit. And I deserve it. I'm sorry I made you go through that, but I can't take back what I've done. Or the fact that I'm sorry we ever got closer –" Pain erupts in me at these words, "– because now you're going to suffer for it. And I can't do anything to help you."

My hands are reaching up, shaking and blue from the cold and I put one over the hand on my shoulder, the other on his face. "What are you talking about?" He doesn't answer. "Look, I don't care what you think is going to happen to me, I'm not afraid, whatever it is. All I want…" My teeth are chattering so loudly that I can barely hear my voice above the noise, "…is for you to want to be around me again."

His face hardens and he looks away, staring down at the snow-covered ice as though it holds all the answers in the world. "I can't do that."

More stinging, straining pain at the back of my throat and behind my eyes. My voice is angry and hurt and I don't try to hide it. "Why the fuck not? I already told you that I don't ca –"

"Because I love you."

The silent snow is the only sound between the two of us. Up above us, the clamoring of people who just saw us jump is deafening, but they still don't see. A strange mist is floating around above us.

If I'm shocked, than it's nothing compared to what Kai seems to be feeling right now. He's staring at me in shock, his mouth open and eyes wide in disbelief. It's almost as though something like this has never occurred to him before and he's only just recognizing it for the first time.

I can't move and it has nothing to do with the cold freezing me to the spot. Of all the things I ever expected Kai to say to me that was never once on the list. In fact, it was so taboo that I didn't bother even letting myself fall into the same trap. It doesn't make sense, I want to scream. How could this be happening and how can he even…I just don't understand.

I don't know if I feel the same way he feels about me. Love. What is love? I don't know if I believe in it. It's just a word. Just a word that people say to put a name to something they can't even describe. So, maybe I do feel for him…but I'm sure it's not in the same way he feels for me. He probably doesn't even understand what love is himself. He probably just decided that it was the name of a sentiment that he didn't know about. It's just a trap, a word trap and emotions that he doesn't understand.

I want him in my life. I want him to be with me and to understand me and to see me for who I am. But love? This strange, alien feeling that destroys and breaks the foundations of everything? How could he have ever gotten the idea? So we kissed. Does that automatically mean something? Apparently to the rest of the world it does, but to me…my god, what am I even thinking. Do I even know what the hell I'm going on about?

I can't think straight. My mind keeps replaying his words, trying to understand him. Trying to understand me. He avoids my gaze as though he's waiting for me to say something. What am I supposed to say? I can't think of any one thing. Too many thoughts in my head, and for once they're all mine and not Zorn's.

What…why…I think I'm drowning again, but it's not in the pain and darkness for once.

"I…I..." I force my voice to work, for my brain to start sending messages, any messages, so long as they can say something I don't seem to be able to. Am I working on autopilot? Somebody save me. "I don't know if…"

I stop talking, the words drying up in my throat. Something catches my eye, and I'm looking past Kai trying to make out the flash of red I just saw. The cold bites at my skin and really, for the first time, I'm suddenly aware of how cold it is and how badly I'm shaking. My skin is turning purple from the cold, and I'm still shaking horribly. But this time I know it's for another reason than cold.

I can't speak or make a sound, and the gasp in my throat dies before it can be heard. The shadow emerging from the snowy wall of wind and cold is a sinister one, with cold black eyes and sallow skin. A toothy sneer of triumph, almost like the sharp teeth of some wild animal face me. Moments before the sound I see the black flash of a barrel and then there's pain in my neck.

I'm falling now, slumping against Kai's chest. I feel him move and cry out in shock, and my eyelids are heavy against my eyes. I hear loud, rapid Russian and Kai is loudest of all, and there's a horrible heat. I force myself to move, raising my hand up despite my rapidly declining motor skills, my fingers slipping around the dart lodged near my jugular vein. Before I can pull it out my hand falls limp, and I see them advancing on us across the ice.

Don't they know it can break?

Right, they wouldn't care. Kai's arms are tight around me and the world is darkening. He's screaming in a mixture of Russian and Japanese and for some reason, even though I know what he's saying, I can't understand him.

Cold, cold overtakes me like frozen fingers ripping at my skin, and I cleave to one last thought.

_'Please don't leave me alone.'_

_

* * *

_

And here's yet another cliffy. Slipped up a little on the sap, but managed to get my original idea in there regardless. So mwaha. Enjoy

R & R,

Kuriness


	18. Abgrund

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: This chapter is entirely in Russian, except for the italicized speech quotations.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Abgrund

"Get the hell off of me," I snarl, wrestling against the strong arms that are pulling me out of the armored car. The abbey looms above me, sinister in the darkness. It looks as though it has been abandoned, and o the people of Russia, it probably is. After all, no one could ever find their way into the catacombs beneath so they left them for myth. Something that worked in Boris' advantage. The withered older man is leering down at me, winning smirk on his face.

"Manners, young Mikhail, where are your manners?" he mocks me, motioning behind me with one arm. I incline my head in the same direction and catch a fleeting glance of Chaya's limp body being carried out of the car by Yuri and another abbey grunt before a swift blow to my head sends me reeling. "Eyes forward, boy, remember the rules."

The stars in my eyes clear and I glare up at him. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Presently, the only one hurting her would be you," Boris says in a sing-song voice as he motions for the people holdikng my arms to pull me forward. "As you are holding up the process. The poison running through her veins will remain treatable for only a few more minutes, young Kai – and I think we have a mutual wish that she live, no?"

"Fuck you," I spit, earning another crushing blow to my face. I feel my cheek open up and a coppery taste in my mouth. The angry heat that has encompassed me all night sparks again but I manage to subdue it for now. I won't lose my head before I can get Chaya out of here.

I'm pushed into the deep, dank walled tunnels of the abbey, the familiar yet foreign sights imprinting themselves in my mind. The cells are still here and to my horror and intense anger, I see the pale, sunken-eyed faces of yet more recruits. They've begun their child-slave-trade again it seems. I want to look behind me to find Chaya, but I know it would just cause me more pain – besides, Yuri and that other guy just carried her off in a different direction.

"Don't worry yourself, boy, you haven't seen the last of her," Boris says cruelly. "She'll be a rather effective tool, don't you think?"

More corners, more turning and more prodding me in the back as we walk, the grunts from the guards behind me showing their effort as I struggle against them. I don't want to be here…back in this hell…the halls smell of blood, and although that could just be my imagination playing tricks on me, I highly doubt it.

"Ah, home sweet home, yes, Kai?" I don't reply but look up at the lone cell at the end of the hall, memories long forgotten surfacing. The screams in my mind are terrifying, because they're my own. "I hope you don't mind that we made a few…adjustments, to help you come to a good decision concerning your future."

Someone painfully tightens a pair of hand-cuffs around my wrists and tosses me into the room. I hit the cold stone face first, the skidding and scraping pain making me wince. As I manage to pull myself up again I notice a little skin hanging off of the cobblestone. Their hospitality certainly hasn't improved.

The door slams shut behind me, the iron sound reverberating through the empty halls.

"Good evening, grandson."

A tremendous chill takes over, starting at the base of my spine and working all the way up. Not even when Boris and his grunts were moving across the ice towards Chaya and me did I feel like this.

I stare up at the tall, brutal profile of my grandfather and order myself not to shudder in terror. A quaking, nauseated sensation grasps me from the inside out as his cold, steely black eyes focus on me. I see my own hatred mirrored in them, perhaps more. Powerful hands that I remember crushing into me when I didn't behave as he wanted, holding a cigarette, before he reaches up and places it between thin lips. His hard-looking jaw seems to become more square as he inhales, and then looks me over again.

"I see your manners have depleted in the time I've been away. We will have to see to that."

"You're supposed to be in jail," I say, even though it comes out more as a whisper than anything else. His eyes are humorless, even though he smirks.

"You should know the extent of power a few well-placed bribes can wield," he says, his voice deathly quiet but still thundering in my ears. "The television sets across the country should just now be getting the news – a pity it will be too late for any of them after we're through here."

"We were through two years ago," I say simply. "I told you. I refuse to wield Black Dranzer, and I refuse to allow you to use me as a weapon."

"You refuse?" Voltaire smirks and stands up to his full height, looming high above me. "You make it sound as though you actually have a choice, Mikhail." He clears his throat. "Tell me, boy, when in your life did you ever have a choice? You entered this abbey because I willed it, you left because I willed it and you joined your pathetic team of bladers because I willed it – I had actually regretted that decision right up until a few years ago, actually." His eyes are dark, gleaming depths of malice. "You know, the ironic part is that I once wanted that remarkable young lady dead. But now…now I believe she might be the key to ultimate power. With her strength on our side, you will follow whether you wish to or not." He snorts. "Refusal? Such an innocent hope in such a naïve child."

"You leave Chaya out of this!" I order, standing up to face him despite not being able to move my hands. "She's not as strong as you seem to think."

He laughs, a cold mirthful laugh. "By that I believe you mean mentally, yes?" He smirks. "That's what I'm counting on. Now, sit down, boy, we have much to talk about." He gestures for the hard-looking cot across from him. I notice that near it something akin to shackles have been built into the wall and some kind of computer feed or monitor is laced throughout the room.

Something in me makes me move towards the cot as he indicated, and I have to fight it with all of my will-power to stop it. Pain brews in my head and I don't understand what's going on. This sensation…it's familiar, but I don't know why. I don't have enough time to duck the fist that Voltaire aims for me, the blow falling on my stomach. I fly into the stone wall, feeling the edges and curves bruise my body.

"I gave you an order, boy. You know better than to disobey. Sit down now or I will take it to the next level." He takes a meaningful drag of his cigarette.

I sit down.

There's a long silence as he sits there, before clearing his throat. "It seems our guest is late. She must not be cooperating."

My mind instantly flashes to Chaya.

As though called there by my will, the door to the cell suddenly slides open again and there's a flurry of movement. I see Chaya's pale face through their arms and leap up to go to her, but am sent sprawling backwards with another hit. It takes a moment to recover, and by the time I do, their work is done and they're leaving.

My eyes fall upon Chaya and I feel my throat constrict.

She's still unconscious, but she looks as though she has been through a tough time. Her hands are encased in strange cylindrical contraptions that are fastened to the wall by the shackles. The computers and the wires seem to be feeding information into both these things and the odd looking visor that's been placed over her. I wince as I notice that the visor seems to be fastened not only by the straps, but into her very skin. Some kind of intravenous fluid is being pumped into her. Her face and arms are bruised and there's blood on her clothing, both from her feet, which are raw and blistering from her bare sojourn in the snow, as well as the rest of her body which looks as though she's been thoroughly beaten.

My guess is that she woke up after they administered the antidote and tried to fight. And lost.

"Chaya…" She doesn't stir and I glare over at Voltaire. "What the hell did you do to her, you psychotic son of a bitch!"

I expect the blow before it comes, but don't bother dodging it.

"It is merely a precaution for our safety," the man sneers, his iron gray hair seeming to rise around him like a sinister curtain. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out something like a remote, pressing a button. The strange cylindrical objects on Chaya's hand begins to glow and then a black force field erupts around them. "We don't want her bitbeast's powers coming upon us any time soon, do we? Those force field reactants as well as the energy visor should keep any of that power from manifesting unless we say so."

The hot rage is growing again and the will to let it loose is strong upon me. But if I do, I could risk hurting Chaya. I force down the urges and glare at Voltaire.

"I don't know what you plan on doing. Neither of us will submit to you and at some point we will get out of here."

His expression is cold. "Oh, do you really believe so? Because I find it highly unlikely that you will leave without one another – especially in your case, Mikhail. And at the moment, neither of you are in the shape to travel nor to rise up against so many armed men. Perhaps it would be best if you resigned yourself to your fate and accepted it like a man."

Chaya stirs nearby but I keep my eyes trained on my grandfather.

"Since when did being a man ever matter to you? Your complete lack of regard to life is a statement of that."

"Spoken like a boy that doesn't know the ways of the world," he says simply, standing up, cigarette in his mouth and wandering over to Chaya. "You can only come by things in this world by power and you have to be ready to take whatever you need to in order to get it. Never let a little thing like human spirit stand in your way." He seems to be sizing Chaya up, his face always the same look.

She moans and her head tosses to one side, as though she's in the throws of another one of her dreams. And this time I can't help her.

"It seems the child is having a nightmare," Voltaire says, as though observing a subtle change in the weather. "Perhaps I should wake her up?" he sends me a malicious look, and before I can do anything, he takes the cigarette from his mouth and plunges it into the skin of her right shoulder.

Her eyes shoot open and a loud, pain filled scream erupts, shattering into the echoes of the room. The smell of smoke and burnt flesh permit my nostrils and I have to focus on not retching, my eyes wide in shock as I look at her. Voltaire finally removes the cigarette and studies the mark in her skin as though it is a work of art. She's awake now, moaning in pain, but amazingly, she doesn't cry.

The area where he burnt her is raw and bleeding red, and I know he's thinking about repeating the entire process, just for his own perverted amusement.

"Tell me, boy, how much pain are you willing for her to go through before you agree to the terms set before you?" Voltaire muses loudly, not looking at me, but at Chaya. She's wincing, glaring at him and her lips shake. She's saying something, but the shuddering breaths she's taking don't help me understand any better.

I watch again as he plunges the fag into her skin, hear the tortured scream and watch the perverse look of pleasure on his face.

"Stop it!" I scream, over and over, but he's ignoring me. I vault from the bed, crashing into him, trying to throw him to the ground and away from her, but I'm on the ground having him kick me in the ribs and swearing at me.

"What will you do now, boy," he grunts, at every words kicking me. The jarring pain is like little knives stabbing me in the lungs. "When will you learn?"

"When…when you stop taking the people I love away from me," I pant back, hearing Chaya calling my name in the background, the sound of her shackles and wrist cuffs smacking against each other as she tries to free herself.

Voltaire pauses. "When I…whatever are you talking about, you stupid boy?"

I glare up, coughing up blood. I spit it out, the drip of the stuff the only sound in the cell. The bastard – how dare he even ask? "You have so much blood on your hands I can smell it."

For some reason he doesn't kick me again, but looks down reproachfully as though I've said something stupid. My blood burns and bubbles and I can't do a thing. "What a thing to say, boy. And after everything you have done, you accuse me of having blood-stained hands?"

Instead of anger, it is fear that I feel now. His reprehensions seem to stop every part of me and he now has my undivided attention. I notice vaguely that Chaya's face is pale and it looks as though something has dawned on her. She's trying to speak to me, but the words are unable to cross her lips. It's as though something is forcing them back. I finally focus myself fully on Voltaire, glaring up at him, waiting for him to elaborate on whatever it is he's saying. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I find it quite amusing how much of a hypocrite you are, boy," he muses. "You accuse me of murdering and committing crimes against human life, when it was you that murdered your own parents."

I didn't expect him to say that.

In fact, I expected him to feed me something more convincing than a lie about my parents' deaths. That bastard. How could he expect me to fall for this bullshit? The least he could do is try to make an effort to convince me that I'm worse than he is. "You're lying. And it's pathetic."

He chuckles, truly seeming to find this amusing. "Isn't this precious? You truly have blocked the memory then? And I thought the only memories you suppressed were the ones of this abbey."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, trying to control my voice. A strange nostalgia is rising in my throat, but I ignore it intently. I won't let him use his mind games on me again. I won't fall into this trap.

"Kai…" Chaya manages, but that's all. I block her out. It is only Voltaire and myself in this small space, and I won't lose to him.

"It seems we will have to have a few lessons in your past, young Kai."

"Stop playing games, _grandfather_," I say, putting annoyed emphases on the last word. "Don't think I don't know about all the deaths you've had a hand in. You killed my family and you tried to kill me and it didn't work. So don't insult me by telling me lies about my own life."

He laughs now, not a mere chuckle, but a truly amused laugh. He finds this hilarious and I clench my fists in their place behind me, wanting to rip his face off.

"Do you remember that day, boy? Before the fire? Do you remember what you did that day?"

Images flash through my mind, and I frown.

"Come on, try," he orders. "You've broken through what you've repressed before; try again, for old times take."

"Kai…don't…" her words are frantic.

I concentrate, my brows furrowed, trying to pull up whatever image I can. I have to prove him wrong. That day is so hazy, but –

_Voltaire smiles down at me, the gesture not reaching his eyes. He's talking to someone, his voice oily, something about a baby and someone needing rest. He forcefully grabs my hand, although to anyone else, the gesture would look caring and familiar. My hands are small in his – a child's hand._

I've never seen that image in my mind before. I would never have allowed myself to go anywhere near Voltaire, why was he there. Who was he talking to and why –

_Voltaire leads me to a car somewhere, waving good-naturedly behind him. I glance back, feeling worried, and my parents smile. They look relieved about something._

I gasp, a shudder rippling through me. For the first time in my life, I can remember my parents. My father, he was a small man with kind eyes, crimson-brown like mine, and a set jaw. He was holding my mother, who – the shuddering increases now – she looked like my grandfather, but not as evil or disgusting. She had ash-brown hair and brown eyes and was holding a baby. And was calling to me as I walked away. My eyes water and I'm tense.

That's who I might have grown up with…if they hadn't died.

_The limousine is large and grandfather says it's so that I can move around. There are toys on the floor. A beyblade lies among them, but I don't care. I reach for the model cars, looking doubtfully into the front where he is sitting with the driver. He sees my gaze in the rearview mirror and suddenly his smile is menacing, scaring me. The window separating the two of us goes up and there's a noise, like gears locking, and then there's a hissing. It's strange. I can't breathe…and suddenly it's dark._

"Remember faster, boy, we haven't got all night," he orders next to me. "You were a unique case from birth. It's a true pity that your parents died because of that. But you were the only one to be able to house Dranzer. And we needed a vessel that we could control."

I can't reply. Another memory surfaces.

_I'm paralyzed. I'm lying cold and naked on a steel table, and there…objects sticking into me, into my skin and everything else. I hear the pump of liquid and muffled, hushed voice. They speak a language I don't understand, but have heard grandfather speaking it this morning. Where is grandfather? Where am I? Pain erupts from all over and I feel as though something is sucking my blood from my veins and spiraling something else into me. My head hurts and it takes me a moment to realize someone's operating around my skull. And it feels strange. I start to cry and someone exclaims loudly. There's suddenly a mask over my face and I'm falling into darkness again._

Present again. I'm doubtful. All my thoughts seem to be separated between what I've known, what I've always known, and the sudden appearance of these memories that I didn't even know existed. I feel overwhelming hatred for my grandfather rise up within me. He did something. I know he had something to do with this. The abduction…that's all it could have been…but then how come I don't remember it? This was long before I was put in the abbey, before my parents died. How could I have been here before their deaths?

_I'm waking up at home. My parents are talking to my grandfather and he's still smiling that oily smile from earlier. None of it makes sense, but I don't seem to care right now because I'm home and grandfather's gone and my parents are in here, telling me that I must have had such a long day. They don't know about what happened and all I can remember is the whispered remnant of a dream._

"Kai…" it's Chaya again, interrupting my thoughts. She sounds desperate but I don't care. She's throwing me off track. I'm trying to understand and remember and she seems to be trying to stop me. Voltaire looks gleeful for some reason, but whatever it is, it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is knowing.

_'…I don't want to do this…please stop…don't make me…'_

_There's a searing heat all around, assaulting me from all sides. I feel myself struggling for breath against a dense, thick mist and all I can see are the bright, violent flames. Someone speaks in harsh, breathing tones in a language I don't understand. I hear the flicker and snap of the flames and feel myself wince. Opening my eyes, I meet the sight of a fiery inferno, all around me. My bed is so hot that the sheets are like searing iron on my back. _

_I cry out and roll off of the bed, the thick smoky air doing nothing for the pain on my back. My room is engulfed in flames so thick I can't even see the walls, and the carpet is burning all over. I hear crying. It's my sister, in her crib. I don't know how she's still alive. I'm scared and calling for my parents._

_"Mat!"_

_Nobody comes. That voice is in my ears again, telling me something. I don't understand it but do exactly as it says. The heat licks at my clothes and body, and although it's an excruciating heat, my skin doesn't burn. The crib that holds my sister is smoldering and she's crying. I push at it and it falls apart, but not before I manage to save her. She's an infant, my mother told me you had to hold her a certain way. I try to keep her from falling, I really do, but she's heavy to me. She falls on the embers of the fire and screams even louder and even though I hurry to pick her up, I notice the angry welts across her eyes._

_She's hurt and it's my fault._

_'Get out of the fire.'_

_…I need to get out. I need to save… _

_I'm running from the room as fast as my legs can carry me; the beams that hold up out roof begin to collapse all around us, but instead of running for safety I run to my parents' room. Did the leave us here? Are they alright? My sister's still crying I only just remember to keep her head supported. Do I? Or is it just the voice in my head telling me…?_

_Opening the door to my parents room is a mistake._

_"MAT!"_

_There's a scream of pain and I'm crying, the burning feeling on my skin increasing as the door opens and a blast of hot air assaults us both. The sight before me is imprinted heavily on my mind. Fire encompassing a body, its features already hopelessly disfigured and grotesque, a long wail of pain, the mouth wide and gaping; its blood burns before it hits the ground. It tries to speak. "…Mikhail…"_

_I'm screaming, my voice mingling with my sisters', the flames sound and touch, and I run, with her in my arms, dodging the flames and the beams and our crumbling house. The painful scream of the burning body behind me follows me out even when I reach my neighbors house and they let us in and call the authorities._

I glare up at Voltaire. "I remember nearly dying in a fire. I remember it being after I saw you. You did something. You had the fire set."

He scoffs. "Really, do you think the fire would have harmed you? You are Dranzer's human vessel. Flame can't hurt you." He looks over towards Chaya and I hold back from doing the same. "And yes, you are right that I planted the fire's origin. I left you there, didn't I."

I narrow my eyes. Is he seriously trying to make me swallow this? He should be able to come up with a better lie.

"_Kai, stop listening to him, he's trying to break you down. Please_," she's literally begging me now, but I have to know what Voltaire is trying to do.

"Why do you think I brought you with me the day before the fire? It wasn't a pleasure trip, trust me," he drawls. "I had my scientists and doctors use impulse therapy and hypnotics. And the chip we planted placed a hypnotic suggestion in your mind that you couldn't help but answer to. Even now you're bound by it."

I growl, curling my fists into tight balls. "Bullshit."

"Really?" he raises an eyebrow and leans forwards, a cold gleam in his eye. "_Burn."_

A sudden flash of scorching heat explodes within me and I feel as though I'm trapped in the burning building again. My skin is melting, or so it seems and suddenly my hands are freed – the cuffs have been refused to melted twists of metal that have stuck to my wrists, blistering the skin. But I look beyond that, staring at the growing balls of flame that have suddenly emitted from my hands. The tongues of fire flicker and dance at me, the warmth showing on my face. Although my skin is right next to the flame, there is no burning and scalding, only immense warmth. It's the hottest temperature I can endure without feeling pain, but that's hot.

_A sleeping darkness, calm and quiet.__ I drift between the sensation of being awake and asleep, haze and disorientation – _

_The voice in my ear is low. "Burn."_

_The sensation of heat explodes over me once again._

I gape up at Voltaire, trying to stomach the last memory. I remember. I remember the flames bursting from my body in an inferno, across out ceiling and out of the rooms, all throughout the house. How did my sister even manage to survive that long?

Voltaire sees the understanding in my eyes and laughs again. "Desist." The flames disappear as soon as they came and I'm staring down at my scarred hands and wondering at how pale they are despite the heat. Chaya's speaking, saying something, but neither myself nor Voltaire bothers with her. "Also, in case you want to know, your little powers only respond to our commands, as we programmed you. I did try to tell you two years ago that it was inevitable…but you chose to make it difficult – and involve the girl."

I feel an unnatural chill, a numb sensation creeping over my heart.

_"Kai, don't listen to him – I don't know what he said, but don't listen – please, just block him out, he's evil. He's trying to turn you around – "_

How can she even say that? She doesn't know what I've done. All this time I thought the only blood that was on my hands were the lives of those poor kids from long ago – the ones that didn't make the cut and that Voltaire ordered us with the threat of death to kill. But my own parents…my sister is blind because of me. And that day when I released Black Dranzer for a time – that caused a cave-in where the other boys slept. How many died that night? How many more people have or will die because of this spirit?

_"Kai, don't give up – please, Kai, wake up and stop it! You're scaring me! Kai, please!" _she's desperate. Hm. Desperate. What does she have to be desperate for? _"Don't leave me alone! Please don't leave me alone!"_

Sobbing and screaming. But is it really any different than anything else I've put people through? It's just my lot in life to cause suffering. And now I'm in the hands of someone who will use me to destroy even more.

My eyes stop focusing on everything – Voltaire's sly smile and the screaming cries, the sounds of her trying to break free – and I let the numbness overtake me completely. I don't want to feel, or care.

I want to be empty.

* * *

Well, there's the chapter. Hope it was enjoyable to you ladies and gents. Next chapter should be up soon – if you're nice to me. Insert wide, evil grin here.

R&R please,

KuriQuinn


	19. Feuer

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: What I meant about last chapter being entirely in Russian, was that everything Kai and everyone else was speaking in was Russian. Except for Chaya, who can't speak Russian. So she got italics. End.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Feuer 

My voice is hoarse from calling Kai's name over and over, but I continue despite how futile an action it is. I know he can't hear me. His eyes are empty, almost like every part of him that I've ever known has just disappeared. I could feel it, all of his pain. As he remembered, I could see it on his face and feel it in the air, the desperation and terror. It was so strong that I could taste it and I wanted him to stop, not just for me, but because whatever it was that he was remembering was something that could hurt him.

And Voltaire knows that.

Kai's body sags, almost as though spent from all of the energy he just used up, even though I know that to him it really wasn't that strenuous. It's not really his energy, after all. It's something beyond all of us. The blasts of flame that encompassed his hands are gone, but the shock of seeing something like that completely surrounding a person is not lost from my mind's eye.

The open wounds on my feet and arms sting in the cold air, and I feel the clasps digging into my wrists as I strain, trying to escape the wall. The cobblestones are rough against my already chafed back; I can feel them through the thinness of my clothing, along with the biting cold.

Again I call out, trying to snap him out of it. He's turned himself off, almost like pushing a button. Every part of him has just…ebbed away.

Voltaire turns away from the defeated, crumpled looking form of his grandson before turning toward me. If possible, his face is even more malicious now that he's staring at me. "And so we meet again, young lady." He speaks in English, something I haven't heard in weeks, but it doesn't hide the sinister Russian accent.

I press my lips together, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing the tension and fear in my voice when I speak to him. I don't need him to know how scared I am, for once of something external.

"I must say, you are an immensely intriguing specimen. So much raw power in such a weak, frail body," he looks me over, a glint in his eyes that I don't like at all. After a moment of studying me, he slips forward and takes my face in between his two fingers. They smell of the cigarettes he burnt into my skin not even moments ago and I try to jerk away, but he hold my face tightly. "You have no idea how alluring the amount of power both you and my weak grandson hold. Just thinking about the might that can be achieved…" He trails off, looking at me hungrily. I want to retch.

I look away from him, although my head can't move from his grip, staring toward Kai. I try to speak, my words marred by Voltaire's fingers as they hold my jaw. "Kai, wake up. Please, get up."

"Don't waste your breath on him; he has completely shut himself into his own little world. Unfortunate, but it's a measured risk worth taking," the man explains, walking over to him with slow, deliberate steps, before kicking him over onto the floor. Kai doesn't react, not even to catch himself. I yelp out when I see his face hit the cobblestone of the ground. There's not even a hint that he felt it, even though I see a slow drop of his blood.

"Leave him alone," I cry. "What the hell did he ever do to you, for you to ruin his life like you have – and like you're trying to do!"

"He ruined his own life," Voltaire replies calmly. "But that's another story – I wish to focus more on you at the moment. And your bitbeast. Zorn, was it?"

The chill in my heart is like an arctic winter raging within. Kai's words to me from before echo in my mind. _"For as long as I've had Dranzer, there have been those that want to use that power for themselves, for conquest, for political power, for world domination, for world destruction." _

Is this what he was worried about? He said something about protecting me. He…did he mean protect me from his own grandfather? Is this what I have to endure now? A constant struggle to not be used by other, petty people that just want to rule the world or cause others harm?

Feelings of alarm and almost nauseated sickness rise up in me, and the familiarity of all of this seems to be crushing in on me from all sides. I don't understand. Why do I feel this way?

"I don't know what you're planning, but it's not going to work," I say, glaring. "In case you haven't noticed, my _sacred spirit_ isn't the nicest type – I can't even control her, what makes you think that you can? She wouldn't be so magnificent to you if she couldn't exist on her own without your mortal whims."

I half-expect a sardonic comment from the spirit, but she's strangely silent. Almost hauntingly so.

He chuckles coldly.

"It just goes to show how much you know – why do you think we took the initiative to place you in those constraints? They were specifically engineered by some of our own spirit-induced humans – fashioned with just enough power to keep you in check. Those force fields would burn even the bones of a normal mortal. But your beast seems to be protecting you – concentrating her powers on your protection more than on my destruction." He clears his throat. "Somewhat disappointing, but in time and under out tutelage, it can be improved."

"I already said no, do you want me to add the 'go to hell' now, or is it implied?" I snap. The nauseous feeling is there again and it's as though I can feel something coming. Almost like I could sense the danger in Kai rising the more he seemed to remember. What could have made him completely zone out like that, though?

Shudder.

That's all my body can do now is shudder.

Voltaire is not amused by my words. "Obviously you lack less obedience than the boy. Well, you'll be here long enough that we can stamp it out of you. I think I will take it upon myself to discipline you this time – I hope you're not attached to your looks."

The threat hangs in the air for about a minute, before he moves, his eyes glinting with malicious pleasure as he reaches down and begins to undo the his belt. My mouth goes dry and I tense, sheer horror the only thing that shorts through my brain.

Once the threatening piece of leather is removed, he folds it up so its thickness is doubled. The metal hilt of the belt swings at the end, promising pain to whatever it might hit. Something in it clicks the closer he comes to me and my heart rate begins to pump at an unbelievable rate. I can already feel the searing strap against my face, ripping through my skin, even though he has yet to lift his hand.

My eyes flicker to Kai. "Kai, wake up now. It's not just about you anymore, please, wake up!"

I can hear the whining, frightened note in my voice.

The man clears his throat. "Your eyes are to stay on me, girl, so that I can see you learning your lesson. We need to get the blood flowing in your head so that you'll listen." He's close enough now to strike me, and then stops for a moment, looking as though he's considering something. "I'm surprised you haven't begun to beg yet. Many of the new recruits do. I commend you."

He pulls back the belt, the sinister curve shadowed in the air above me.

For a split second, it's all that I can see. It's all that exists. It moved. I shut my eyes. "KAI WAKE UP!"

The slap of the air against the metal is drowned out by the sudden yell and crashing impact in front of me. When I feel no pain, I hesitantly open my eyes.

Voltaire is crumpled against the wall, the belt lying somewhere to his left, and he's glaring at me with furious eyes. There's a dent in the stone wall where he collided with it, the throw a powerful one. I look up completely, half-expecting Kai to have woken from his stupor and done something.

But he's still lying in the small pool of blood from his face.

And as I realize that it wasn't him, the nauseating feeling and draining weakness overpower me and I sag against the chains, swearing as I put weight on my feet.

Kai's grandfather growls at me, pulling himself up and marching over to me, not even bothering with the belt this time. The rage and murderous intent in his eyes shows that he just wants to beat me with all of his might. Never stopping. Just hitting me.

But he doesn't make it.

Again, he flies backwards, this time causing one of the stone to clink out onto the floor. Again, the strength ebbs from me until I realize that it's Zorn that's protecting me.

Why would she do this? She's spent all this time trying to drive me insane so that I was almost brain dead, driven me to try to kill myself countless times and now she's trying to keep me from harm? She was the one that used to toss me around the room like a rag doll and now this?

_"You ignorant human, you still don't understand any of it," _her voice is as weak as I feel, almost too tired to sound cold and hateful. _"Your selfishness will be the end of you."_

Voltaire's up again.

A third time he tries to hurt me, and a third time he is repelled.

He finally seems to get it, but he doesn't like it. He looks as though he doesn't care how much of an asset I can be to him, he wants me dead, his eyes say. But he refrains from attacking me again. Instead he composes himself and strolls over to Kai, pulling him up by the hair.

He doesn't even register pain. Not even a glance. Kai's been extinguished. He doesn't exist anymore. All that lies behind the crimson eyes is the deadened shadow of something which once existed. I want to yell at him for giving up, for giving in just because he saw something in his past that was so horrible. I see horrible things every night and I managed it. Kai's supposed to be stronger than I am. He's not supposed to give in so easily and be so human. He's supposed to be the rock that I could hold fast to when I'm in trouble.

He's not supposed to die inside.

"Considering I can't reach you the way I would like," Voltaire drawls. "Perhaps we should try another means. Yes?"

No! No, no, no!

But I can't do anything because everything feels exhausted and tired.

He flips out a knife from his pocket, a little pocket knife with a dull edge and holds it over his grandson's body, threatening me with his gestures. The bile rises in my throat, but I fight it back. I need to do something…something, anything! "Kai – " my voice is not even a whisper, barely heard. "Wake up…don't let him do this…f-fight him…"

I regret the words almost immediately as Voltaire's eyes glimmer. "Don't _let_ me do this? My dear, what makes you believe that he has any say in anything he does? You have more voice than he does. And that says something."

I don't reply, setting my jaw. Everything's tense and I can't even breathe as I simply watch him, my eyes not leaving Voltaire's grip on Kai. He has to wake up, he has to snap out of it or Voltaire will…no, he's too sadistic to kill him. Besides, he needs him…but there are a lot of ways to cut into someone's skin without actually killing them – just as long as you don't hit any vital organs.

Yeah, that pleasant thought there is courtesy of yet another one of my dreams.

"Do you work at being a rat-bastard, or is it just inherent?" I snap, some kind of spark returning to my words. He won't hurt Kai. He wouldn't go that far, he means too much – too much power. And he can't do anything to me because of Zorn.

As though he senses my thoughts, he puts down the knife, tossing it somewhere in the room and letting Kai fall to the floor at the same time. I almost feel triumphant, before I see the way he's looking at me.

"You really care for my poor, weak excuse for a grandson, don't you?" he muses, looking as though something earth-shattering has just occurred to him. "And from the way he adamantly defends you – not that you would have heard or understood him – I see he reciprocates."

Sinking cold, everywhere. I don't want to hear where he's going with this. I just want it to stop. I want to be back with everyone, just worrying about how we're going to win the beyblade world championships – not having to worry about spending the rest of my life as some science projects, being tortured and left all alone to suit someone else's needs.

Again, the feeling of familiarity, threatening to reveal itself but never really doing so.

"Perhaps there actually is a manner to punish you – and him," he says, cruel. He sweeps away from the two of us, going towards the door that leads to some strange controlled freedom, out of the cell. I am instantly suspicious. He's too sadistic to be leaving us alone for now, what is he doing? This isn't going to be good, I can tell –

He stops at the door, slowly and deliberately turns around and stares at the two of us. A sly, smug smile forms over his square-jaw and he says something in Russian, but I understand it nonetheless.

Because Kai's hands are smoldering with flame again, that slowly creeps over his body as though bathing him in some sinister holy light. He's kneeling, with no sound escaping from his lips, as the flames lick out around his head and torso, spreading until he is entirely consumed in flame.

But like before, he's not burned. This fire, this sacred spirit that's in him keep him safe from its power, but to me – I feel the air in the room heat up with a dangerous charge, the warm sensation on my bare skin heating up to a slowly unbearable level.

Voltaire laughs and says something about how a little time alone should make me want to reconsider my options. I don't even have to ask how he wants to accomplish that. He already asked me whether I was attached to my looks, I'm sure it was for a reason – because I'm going to be burnt to a crisp and still living.

And he closes the door behind him.

The flames emitting from Kai travel along the floor, igniting some of the twigs of what might have once been straw or some other splintery material – the scent of burning flesh is filling the room, even though neither Kai nor I have any part of us on fire. His clothes have begun to shrivel and smolder in the heat so that I can see all of his scars all over his chest and arms. His eyes are shut.

"KAI, WAKE UP!" I yell, once again, although weak, fighting against the shackles. Sweat drips down my forehead, blinding me with a salty, burning sensation, and the heat is getting painful. I'm not hurt though and the smoke hasn't begun to asphyxiate me yet, and it's only after another tortuous moment that I realize Zorn is once again shielding me.

I don't understand…but it doesn't matter. "Kai, listen to me! I don't know what he said to you or made you remember – and what I say can never change it – but you're playing into that old bastard's hands by doing this – by listening to him and letting him control you!" Smoke rises from somewhere, choking me. "You don't want to do this! It's just like when he made you kill those little kids in the abbey, remember you told me?"

I see him tense, but his eyes remain blank.

"Are you going to let him control you? And it's not just you this time, it's me! You think that just having Dranzer under is control is a bad thing – you've seen my nightmares!" my voice is painful and grating in the black smoke and the heat is unbearable. I think I might be suffering from first degree burns – and that's only for now. The longer I'm exposed to this raw energy that Kai's exuding… "You've seen what can happen – if you keep giving into him, you're just letting it happen! And it won't just be me suffering, it will be hundreds of millions of people – _please!_"

The voice in my mind is speaking loudly, in hurried tongues that make even the most remote parts of me seem to constrict with pain. Not from the heat, but from within me.

And for a moment, everything around me fades, like being in some kind of vacuum, where nothing is real and _there_, before I feel a shuddering ripple, erupting from my bones and spreading throughout my body. My blood feels like it's on fire and I can feel my mouth open and my throat hurts – am I screaming? The back of my head hurts as though I've scraped it against the walls and I'm trying to breathe but choking on flames.

The detached feeling of being trapped inside a black fog is upon me and I finally understand that I'm no longer in control of this.

She is.

* * *

Hm, I wonder if this is another one of my famous lame last lines? Probably. Oh well, that's how life goes I suppose – hey, I rhymed. Anyhow, 

R&R please,

KuriQuinn


	20. Gheist

**_Alptraum_**

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: This was a _very _complicated chapter to write. Bear with me if it's confusing.

Key:

Narration

'Thoughts'

_"bitbeasts"_

_'Flashbacks/memories'_

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Gheist

A sleeping darkness, calm and quiet. I drift between the sensation of being awake and asleep, haze and disorientation –

_'Burn.'_

The sensation of heat explodes over me.

Everything is fire.

The room, the floor and even the air.

I can't see more than two feet in front of me, and even that is a hazy, fiery prison that fills me with a feeling of emptiness and futility. I'm back in my childhood room from long again. Sitting in a fetal position, the sheets beneath me burning hot and tortuous, but I don't dare move.

_'…I don't want to do this…please stop…don't make me…'_

The shadows within the flames in front of me dance sinisterly and every few moments I imagine that I can make out a shape in them. A face. Or a form with fiery wings, that moves about the room, setting an even larger and more dangerous fire. There's a searing heat all around, assaulting me from all sides. I feel myself struggling for breath against a dense, thick mist and all I can see are the bright, violent flames.

_'You accuse me of murdering and committing crimes against human life, when it was you that murdered your own parents.'_

At the back of my mind there's something screaming at me but before I can zero in on it, it stops, completely disappearing. I feel strangely forlorn and terrified.

The crib in the corner holds the echoes of crying. I can't get through to save the child within, but no matter how long I'm here the crying never ends. I think I'm stuck in this moment, in this limbo. This prison. Is this what it feels like to be trapped in your own mind? To not have any control over anything?

I inch towards the edge of the bed, but the flames close in on me until I move back again. I'm not meant to escape this.

_'…murdered your own parents…'_

The face in the fire has returned. A long with a body, if you could call it that. Across from me, a flame in the shape of a woman, pointed features and burning red eyes face me with intensity that makes me freeze up. The gaze is distance, detached as though it's not really here. Almost as though the figure exists but does not.

Someone speaks in harsh, breathing tones in a language I don't understand.

And then it's gone again, swallowed up by the inferno.

The flames creep upon me again and I press myself against headboard of the bed. The howling infant competes with shrieks of something else. The burning body perhaps?

_'…blood on my hands…'_

I tuck my knees into my chest, trying to hide my face from the heat for even a moment.

There's a sudden hiss and the flames flicker, as though by some strong wind that's attempting to put them out but only succeeds in making them stronger. A yell, a scream, neither my own and then a darkness that overshadows the flames.

_'Get out of the fire.'_

The room is suddenly gone and I'm standing in a dark limbo, blind to everything even though I still feel the heat of the blaze against my skin. It's a shock to my eyes when all of a sudden through the darkness there is a burning pyre before me and I see the figure again. Even in the flare that is constant movement, I make out the face. Birdlike, feminine, dangerous.

Dranzer glares at me sinisterly, making me shrink back even though there's nowhere to go in this endless darkness. There's no voice, but I feel the anger and reproach in her gaze, for falling into this trap where I remain nothingness. Like Yuri, I'm now a puppet. And so is she.

"_'If that's how you're going to think it's no wonder you're such a weakling."_

I jump, searching around me for the owner of that voice. The words were not in any language that I know, but I still understand it. The strange, ancient tongue that spoke to me before. Despite her quiet, I know it was not Dranzer. This voice was cold and hard, its timber dripping with a promise of darkness that I've only ever heard in nightmares. Nightmares that were Chaya's and not my own.

There is no one around, no matter where I look. Dranzer is always searching around, and angry shriek, like that of the phoenix, and there's a sudden brilliant light – a flame emits from her mouth in one direction, and then another, as though she's trying to burn this darkness away. The flames disappear before they can ignite, but there is a yell of pain and suddenly I can make out the figure that stands opposite Dranzer.

I realize almost too late that I am standing in between two spirits, Dranzer, and an ominous dark form that seems to control the swirling darkness around us. I know it's Zorn, even though I have never seen her in this shape. She is different from the harpy that appears during battles and has merely given the darkness a face.

"_'That you would give into this was unexpected,"' _although Zorn's mouth doesn't move, the voice belongs to her. She's not speaking to me, but to the flaming pyre before me.

There is chilling silence, and no reply.

_"I never believed that you were so weak."_

Still no reply.

_"That you would allow the possibility of more destruction to go on without a thought?__ Is that the price of your freedom that you will pay?" _The voice echoes, bringing up the intensity. The flaming pain surrounding me increases. _"Is that why you left this mortal with no defenses and no control over his own impulses?"_

My mouth is dry, painfully so. The crackling of flames is louder than ever it's a moment before I realize it's not really the flames cracking, but the voice of the flaming pyre that is Dranzer.

"_'What I do to escape this bodily prison is of no concern of yours. Nor your vessel. I have lain dormant within for long enough, a slave to the impulses of a weaker body for too long. The cost of my freedom is justified!"_

And with that, the ancient voice snarls and suddenly there's a brilliant light that pulses from Dranzer, combating the darkness, burning the very air. I choke, tasting ash in my mouth. A mumbled curse and the darkness contrasts, Zorn summoning strength against my sacred spirit.

_"Justified?" _her voice is mocking as the turbulent air swirls away from the darkness as they combat. _"The destruction of the innocent justifies it how? A slaughter of souls that don't deserve it, by your hands and by the hands of those who control you!"_

_"None can control me," _a flaming torch the size of an entire house hurtles overhead and I cry out, trying to get out of the way. I can't move and before I know it, the flames have enveloped me on their path towards the dark bitbeast. Instead of searing pain I feel nothing but the now familiar hot warmth around my body.

_'Do you think the fire would have harmed you? You are Dranzer's human vessel. Flame can't hurt you.'_

My grandfather's words make sense as I numbly watch as the flame encompasses Zorn and begins to burn her. Despite this, I can feel the same note of determination as before.

I don't understand any of this – why is she here? Where is here? And why is Dranzer attacking her? And Chaya…if Zorn is here, where's Chaya, they can't be separated unless –

_"She will live but a little longer if you don't learn to control yourself, ignorant mortal,"_ Zorn's voice hisses. _"I left her in the burning cell to come to your aid but you first must need to be stronger than what you a –"_

Another burning flame covers the dark spirit. _"I will not be held down again – whatever you tell the boy will make no difference."_

_"Do you really think that once you get rid of me, or the girl that you will truly be free?" _mocking lilt. _"You know the man called Voltaire – you know what he has done he has done for himself alone. He will control you and order your powers to do his own will – and then after that there will be others in his line. They will search out your vessel, even after this boy, and they will use it to their own advantage." _

Again, Voltaire's words. _'But you were the only one to be able to house Dranzer. And we needed a vessel that we could control.'_

The darkness recedes from where it has been sweeping a protective shield around the body of Zorn. _"Have you not seen my memories? Have you not seen the battles and the warning I sent to keep our power from being exploited?"_

Wait. Memories? What memories…?

She can't mean the dreams, can she? I strain my mind back to the memory of when I tapped into Chaya's subconscious – the battle, and the deaths – were they memories?

Dranzer's not impressed. _"That is your own fault, for being weak."_

_"Maybe you're correct in saying I'm weak," _now there's a resigned. _'I was weak to allow you to coexist with mortals. You, along with the other three spirits. You should have been sealed for eternity eons ago. I had hoped that your sojourn in the hearts of mortals would weaken your taste for power. But obviously I was mistaken."_

The darkness falters, flickering back to the image of my childhood room, and I'm sitting on the searing sheets again, but moments later back in the dark. The two presences are still facing each other, their auras clashing furiously with one another.

The dizzying prison where I can't even move from is suffocating me with the darkness and the heat, but I can't break out. The crying at the back of my mind is back, and I imagine that it's calling my name, but that's just wishful thinking. I don't want to be alone here any more with these two ancient things bearing down on each other.

The heat increases around me and I feel myself being drawn towards Dranzer. The faint numbness surrounds me the closer I seem to be getting.

In the background the images from Chaya's nightmares play, the scent of burning blood. Before my eyes I see a clash of the flame and the darkness, the light and the dark, casting the shadows menacingly throughout the place.

Images…flashes…memories…

Memories…!

It hits me suddenly what everything means. I force myself to fight the wall of blind heat, order my legs to move and stand. The intense fight still rages, light against dark, both of these things before me monsters. I could probably disappear between the melee of their powers, but force myself to stand.

'The images are your memories!' I realize. 'They're a warning – about using your power for ones own benefits.'

There's a lull in the fighting and I feel as though the two spirits have turned towards me, and are listening expectantly to my thoughts, which seem clear to them. My mouth and throat are dry and there's a pounding in my head, the swirling vortex of fire on shadows making me loose my balance. I fight it, trying to breathe.

'To keep yourself from being used you created a defense mechanism so that although your power could be attained it was based on your own terms – to keep you from massacring and being used to destroy things for a petty mortal cause.'

Still more silence, but Zorn looks away. Dranzer takes this opportunity to lash out again, but is stopped with great effort by the vortex of darkness. _"Finally one who understands." _She looks directly at me, the gaze completely piercing through my entire body. _"I don't want to hurt the girl – she is what holds my power and my essence. I was imbued into her body at her birth, not when she was given the bit power with my image on it. That was when I awakened. And I noticed immediately her own power. Not only could she use my power with ease, she managed to withstand the burden that holding me meant. No one has ever lived so long with the memories of my existence and not gone insane."_

'What's that supposed to mean – you were protecting her or something?'

_"In a sense, yes."_

Dranzer again tries to break up the shield and succeeds, but Zorn disappears before the blast of flame can touch her. I want to call out for her to stop, but it seems I'm mute again. They're involved in each other once again, leaving me to my own thoughts.

The nightmarish images rain down on me again, and I try to look away but even on the back of my closed eyes the images are there. The burning blood in the darkness.

So Zorn was trying to protect Chaya from both herself and Zorn's power? Because she didn't want exactly what is happening now to happen. And she wanted to kill me to keep Dranzer from falling into Voltaire's hands again. I can see why. Dranzer is a wild, destructive force. I hadn't known this before. I had believed it was powerful, but such destruction and complete lack of care…maybe it is better that I die.

An image different from the rest flashes before me.

Chaya's tear-streaked, blood-smeared face surrounded by the flames.

No, I can't die.

I save her.

That's right…the abbey. I need to escape where I am…I have to get Chaya out of here. But the heat is still there and the flames are still a prison.

_'Please don't leave me alone.'_

'I won't leave you alone. Not again. I'm going to protect you. And that doesn't include driving you insane with images and memories that weren't your fault.'

Zorn's suddenly facing me, so close that I can feel the cold darkness radiating from her, and she's staring at me intently, the cruel black gleam in her eyes. The darkness in the form of a mouth quirks upwards and I hear the voice. _"Do you swear?"_

My tongue feels like lead, like there's something that's keeping me from speaking, but I have to get around it. I choke out, combating the flame and ash that's in my mouth. 'I promise.'

A howling shriek and an explosion. I'm thrown backwards, hitting the headboard of the bed once again. The darkness is disappearing, but I'm still in the burning room. Dranzer looks triumphant, a smoking patch in the air the remnants of where Zorn was enveloped in her darkness.

The two of us are alone again and the flames are even stronger than before, trapping me in the little portion of the bed that's still not on fire. Intense, angry red eyes are looking at me from everywhere.

I need to get out of here, out of this cell. I need to save Chaya.

I need release from this prison of fire. It needs to stop.

The screaming infant is still making noises from the crib that's smoldering in the heat, and the curtains swing down around me. The figure of Dranzer faces me challengingly, standing before the door. The door from my room freedom. I need to escape through there –

I've hardly thought it and already the way is blazing hot, the fires hot and licking the ceiling. It's a dungeon of flame again and I'm the sole prisoner, facing the jailer. Dranzer.

_"Just what will you do, boy?"_

What can I do? I need to find Chaya and I need to break out of this memory of that night long ago. But how will I get past the fire –

_'You are Dranzer's human vessel. Flame can't hurt you.'_

Whether it's flames in general or flames produced by her, I don't care. The thought alone is enough to propel me forward, jumping into the flames and starting towards the door.

They surround me, exploding into my skin but I keep moving. My glance flies to the crib with the screaming infant, but right away I remember that it's just a hallucination – a trap my mind has come up for. My sister is alive and well, somewhere beyond this hell. Chaya is the one that's in trouble.

I keep going.

Dranzer's egging the flames on to burn me, and it's slowly beginning to work. Blistering pain starts up, but I keep going, determined. She's standing right in front of the door. I need to get by.

The closer I get the more I feel pain. I think my skin is melting off of my face, leaving nothing but ash bones and burning blood. The bird-like shriek is in my ears again, but I ignore it. If I still have my face, I narrow my eyes in the spirits direction.

'I've seen enough carnage in Zorn's memories to allow that sort of thing to happen again – even if you no longer dormant, what you will have is an illusion of freedom – and after that there won't be any illusion anymore because that's how mortals work. I won't make you return to being latent, but I won't let you put more people in danger."

Dranzer shrieks angrily, but the red gleam says something different.

She doesn't move and the pain increases, and I know that I have to escape as soon as possible. The only exit is the door. The door that is being blocked by her flaming figure.

I don't even think about before leaping forwards, waves of pain taking me over as I pass through her flaring form and towards the door. There's a bright light and then I choke, an oozing substance trailing down my throat. I spit it out, watching my blood burn before it even hits the cobblestone floor.

My entire body is surrounded by flames, free of the cuffs that held them before. I'm back in the prison cell again, and as I look up –

I can't breathe.

Chaya's body hangs limply from the shackles, her eyes half-lidded. An angry red burn stretches from the fingers of her right arm all the way towards her shoulder.

She's not moving.

* * *

Ha-HA! Another cliff-hanger. Kai's free from his mind – but is he too late? Is Chaya dead? Is she alive? You know, I suddenly have a completely different idea from what I was going to do with this fic – it could end two ways here…mwahaha!

R&R please,

Kuriness


	21. Verflucht

_**Alptraum**_

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: This was a _very _complicated chapter to write. Bear with me if it's confusing.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Verflucht

Pain.

That's all there is.

That's all I am.

No matter how I try to move or shrink away, the pain increases. Like a blistering wound opening up and swelling, swallowing me whole. Like knives being run down my skin, tearing past flesh, muscle and bones, scraping into me from all sides – and my heart is as though someone has put it into a blender and turned it onto high speed.

You'd think that after having my soul leave my body too many times than I could count that I would have some semblance of being used to it. I know that I've felt myself slip away before, but I've never felt so drawn away that it's caused this much pain. There a deep, suffocating pull drawing me everywhere and nowhere – I can't breath. The stars explode in my vision getting larger and more pronounced with each new wave of pain. If I'm screaming, I can't hear it.

It suddenly occurs to me.

I'm dying.

Like during my battles, there's that floating feeling and I'm watching it all from above in shock. This time there is now black flash that I can count on. I think I'm finally alone. Zorn's gone for some reason and as I look down I recognize my body. It's limp, mouth slightly parted and my eyes half-lidded. I really am dead…I seem to be moving higher and higher and I'm not in the cell any more, but I can still see what's going on perfectly through the black mist that surrounds my world.

Kai's hands still smolder around his lifeless body, his eyes open and staring that even here in this painful state I feel sick. He's gone. Zorn's gone.

I really am alone.

I've barely allowed this thought to take shape when I feel an explosion take place somewhere inside me, doubling the pain. It gets more painful the farther I go but I can still see –

Kai!

All of a sudden, it seems like his eyes are changing in the flame. For a moment I believe it's a reflection of the flames but then I hear sound coming from his lips. I'm cold pain, floating higher into the mist that opens over a beautiful white light. I'm falling upwards and I want to go there where there will be no pain and where I can finally be free. I bet that bastard Voltaire didn't plan for me to die…it's a good thing it wasn't Kai that killed me, but Zorn. She left even though our souls were still bonded.

I feel a little bad that I can't thank her, but all that's in the past now, right?

I see movement.

Kai's blinking…and moving his head and…

He's moaning, choking and falling forward, retching onto the cold stones of the cell, his shoulder shaking. The light beckons me but I feel the urge to watch him. Why am I dying…I should be helping…I shouldn't be leaving him here, it was my fault that he was caught, if I hadn't left the stupid hotel or gotten involved with him.

My gasping for breath has stopped and all of a sudden I'm in an airless enclosure. I inhale and all I feel is the sucking void. Pressure builds within me, as though threatening that I will explode into a million pieces and still the white light is there.

Kai stares at his hands, which have stopped burning and gone back to normal and is now looking over at my dead body. He's not speaking, but the way he looks at what I once was –

'_No! Chaya, fight it!'_

Fight what? I want to ask him. The sense of deja-vu is clouded by the need to sleep and give into the pressure that is slowly suffocating me.

He's on his feet, approaching my body and pulling at the chains. They won't give. He's speaking now, surprisingly in Russian, almost like what he's trying to express can't be expressed in any other way. It's no use, I want to tell him, feeling a detached sensation of sadness. Strange…everything seems less important for some reason…

He's swearing and pulls away, running a hand through his hair – he's trying to tear it out.

And suddenly he pauses and goes still, closing his eyes.

I think for a moment that he might have gone back into the vegetative state – everything's getting darker below me like the shadow of a dream and the light is blinding but I want to see what Kai is doing and I want him to be alright and I need…

At the same time that his eyes spring open, the flames that surrounded him earlier a berthed from his hands. He holds the flames in his hands for a moment, as though testing their strength before he lunges forward, grasping the chains and confining objects around my body's wrists, the intense heat melting the metal. I notice vaguely that his flames barely touch my skin. How did he control…

…control…

All the world slips away as I spin, dizzying through this suffocating world towards the light. I'm sorry Kai, that I wasn't strong enough to stay around, please get out of here and tell Max that I love him and have me cremated and if you ever meet Zorn again run as fast as you can and isn't my life supposed to flash before my eyes before I die and go into the light? Is this the way to what's known as heaven or just my brain synapses going into overdrive and I'm cold and hot at the same time and heavy but I'm flying – beautiful light – savor the flying floating feeling – simple, straight, freedom, I am save I am eternal but I don't want to be – you can't bring me back so don't try – make time slower – give me just a little longer.

'Forgive me…?'

With that last thought I surrender to the blackness, when –

'_I'm like you. I'm nobody. Don't leave me alone.'_

Explosion of excruciating agony that I've never felt. The pain is so strong that it's filled my limbs and my mind and I want to die – but I'm screaming. And I hear my voice.

And I'm breathing, gasping for air and I can actually inhale, even though it feels like I'm breathing ashes.

Am I finally gone –?

There's a brutal thrust downward on my chest, making me double up and cry out at the renewed pain and I suddenly feel something inside me, flowing and I'm cold and my feet hurt because I was stupid and walked barefoot in the snow and my right shoulder hurts like a throbbing swollenness because that's where Voltaire burned me and…and…

And Kai's looking down at me, mouth open, and he's sweating and breathing hard, his hands poised above me. I feel the cobblestones on the back of my head and the constricting cuffs on my arms despite them having been severed from the wall earlier.

He leans down again, obviously having not seen me awake and I feel him breathe into me, making my lungs move and I moan at the torture. Breathing hurts.

I get it. CPR. He had to break my ribs to get my heart and lungs working again…

I'm alive.

He sees that too and I imagine for a moment that I can see him crying, but I'm sure I'm too far gone because Kai is an asshole, he would never cry. And I suddenly want to laugh because I'm living and I'm here and Kai is awake and I feel free and…and…

He cups my cheek, the same cold, concentrating expression on his face that I'm used to and gruffly says, "I thought I lost you."

I want to shake my head but it makes everything throb and I manage to rasp out, "Can't get rid of me that easily."

And he actually laughs.

I think it's a nervous reaction because he had such a scare, because moments later he's stopped, swallowed, looked away and then looked back at me. "I'll get you out of those things now."

I suddenly remember that I'm wearing the cylindrical contraptions on my arms and the visor over my eyes and that he's on fire again. I try to move out of the way but he motions for me not to, reaching forward and clasping the circumference of the things in his hands. I watch out of the corner of my eye, because it's too sore to move my head at the moment, as it slowly melts and I feel the warmth as it comes closer and closer and know that I'm going to get burned but I don't care as long as he gets me out of these things.

And he's burned through. The metal drips off of my arms onto the floor, but to my amazement, there is no mark on my skin, no burning rashes or blisters and only the slightest feeling of discomfort.

"I don't understand," my voice sounds like sandpaper would sound I guess. "No burn…?"

"Zorn's protecting you," he says simply, setting to work on the rest of my encasings. I frown.

Zorn? Protecting me? But…I can't even sense her. I thought I was alone…

He seems to read my mind and says, "I'll explain the details when we get the hell out of here. She saved your life."

"You saved my life," I murmur, confused.

"Only because she freed me from my mind – now stay quiet. Save your strength. You're going to need it if we're going to get out of here."

Kai's completely changed. Hours ago he was angry and desperate, and when we came to this hell-hole he became a mass of nerves, weighed over by his guilt. And all of a sudden it's as though he's gotten over it. Not only gotten over it, I think as I watch his fire-enveloped hands work on my chains, he's somehow controlling it.

"How…?"

"I'm in control now," he replies, and I suddenly notice for the first time the effort in his voice. So it's not as easy as he's making it look…he's struggling here with controlling the flame. And Dranzer, I remind myself. He must have somehow broken hold of the hypnotic suggestion that Volatire planted in his head. "And if we're going to escape, you need to be too. You just have to hold on."

Hold on? What the hell does he mean?

My hands are free and he's ripped the visor off of my face so that I can see clearly now. His movements are hurried and I think he has a plan of some sort. The blood on his face is dry now and I think vaguely that he'll have a scar there if we ever get out of here and live to tell the tale.

He winces suddenly, shuddering and I see the sweat glisten on his temple. He's doing some quick thinking about something, before sighing and leaning over me.

"I'm going to try something – I'm not sure it will work, so you need to use as much of Zorn's power to protect you as you can, alright?"

"But –"

He's not listening, he's concentrating, looming above me and mumbling something under his breath. I'm panicked, mostly because I can't move, but also because Zorn's not hear any longer. I can't feel her presence, and although the freedom from her dominion is a welcome one, at the moment I'm no more than a mortal. I have nothing special to me and there's no power to protect me from whatever Kai's going to do.

His breathing increases and he's shaking above me.

I watch in horror for a moment as he suddenly cries out, gnashing his teeth in pain and there's a swift explosion of flame outwards from his body, enveloping the cell that we're in completely. I clench my eyes shut but still hear the combustion of the walls and cot and anything else around us and scream, the shock of his action reverberating through me. I expect the pain of the burn to come as I expected my death moments earlier and possibly a return to that moment.

But there's nothing.

Nothing at all, not even the feeling of warmth on my skin like before.

Blinking my eyes open, I'm startled to find that I'm seeing Kai through a film of darkness, like a black fire if it were possible. Wisps of darkness that flicker up, keeping the flames from my skin and keeping the air I take in breathable. The familiarity of this feeling washes over me, but for the first time in my entire life, it doesn't come with the sick, deathly sense of sickness. I don't have any of the flashes of the nightmares just a feeling of being safe…and protected?

'_Now you're finally understanding, girl.'_

I'm scared at how gentle her voice seems all of a sudden, although it hasn't lost it's cold, hard-as-nails drawl.

The dark energy abates, as do the flames and now it's only Kai and myself lying in the ruins of the cell, where the cot smolders in the corner and the remnants of my chains and shackles are nothing but ash dried to the floor. Kai is breathing hard, leaning over me, barely holding himself up on his elbows. He's not used to such a burst of energy, especially not so much energy being used in one night.

He won't be able to get us out of here.

There's an alarm. It's a searing, shrill scream that makes my ears hurt. Kai's labored breathing is in my ear, his breath warming my neck and his shaking making my body quiver as well.

They'll be here and neither of us is in any condition to fight.

We have to run. Question and answers will wait until later, I hope. Escape, get out, that's the only thing on my mind. My body hurts but I force myself to move, holding back the tears as my ribs jar, bruising my longs and cutting my breath short. My hands shaking, I push Kai up, trying to move him in to a sitting position, just for him to get his bearing back.

He's on his knees now, staring at me as though transfixed and I don't know why, and nor do I care. I'm still trembling from the hurt, but shake it off, gripping his hands tightly.

Somehow I manage to get to my feel, whether it's through my own force of will or Zorn helping me, I don't know. But I'm pulling him up with me and I say, "We have to get out of here."

And before I or my protesting ribs can make a note of it, he's nodding, and I'm being carried on his back and we're running away from the cell, away from the chains and the hurt and towards a hope to escape this hell.

That is if one of us doesn't die first.

I've had a close enough taste of death today that I want to live. No, I have to live. If I don't…all of this will be for nothing. Something tells me that Zorn is the least of my problems…

It's the maze that is the abbey that I'm most worried about. If Kai doesn't remember how to get around here we're both screwed. And that's putting it lightly.

* * *

Woot! There we go, finally getting the road on the show. The fics' slowly ending, guys, but I'm entertaining the thoughts of a sequel. Let me know what you think about that - oh, an authors shout out to whoever can guess what song I was listening to during Chaya's near death experience. I'll give you a hint: Warp Tour...now what you do with that information if up to you, mwaha!

Secondly, will you guys please check out The Underdog Syndrome? I'm beginning to think no one likes it - doesn't mean I'm taking it down, because I write that for me, but it takes up time that I could be updating a story that you like. And if it starts feeling like a job to me, it takes longer to actually finish writing it - but if you review and let me know what you think I get into the mood to dole out the next chapter along with updates to everything else.

Okay, now that my little complaining period is over - momentaii!

R&R please,

Kuriness


	22. Schaden

_**Alptraum**_

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

Note: This chapter will be…interesting, to say the least. We're finally getting to the wrapping up of the actual fic.

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Chapter Twenty-Two: Schaden

The narrow passages don't seem to end and it's like my feet are made of lead, the force of each step reverberating up through my body. Breathing hurts and my skin feels like it's still on fire. Sweat and blood runs down my face, into my eyes and despite the fact that I'm running as fast as I can, I feel as though I'm slowing with every step. I glance down at Chaya's bare, torn feet as I run, a part of me cursing myself. It's my fault this whole thing even happened…

I can feel a stitch in my side coming on and try to somehow angle my body to get rid of it, knowing I can't stop it. On my back, Chaya is moaning quietly, trying to keep silent so that we are not discovered but all the while in pain. I'm sure that what I'm feeling is a hundred times worse for her, considering what bad shape she's in. As I turn a corner her arms tighten around my throat where she holds onto me and I bite my lips in concentration. Every movement hurts her I know. I can almost feel her broken rips against my back, but maybe it's just my imagination.

I glance upward, searching for the cameras that I know are watching our progression through his maze beneath the abbey, but am amazed when I can't find them. Not only that, I can barely see anything in these dark hallways save for the path before me. The walls and the path already traveled are swathed in an almost tangible darkness.

It occurs to me that the moans that have been coming from Chaya are not from pain, but from effort. She's been trying to harness Zorn's powers as I harnessed Dranzer's to help us move quicker. I'm torn between telling her to conserve her energy and thanking her for what she's doing. I'm always grateful that she's a quick learner. She doesn't mince actions or need to be told to do something; she just goes ahead and does it.

She's been here before, I remember out of the blue, trying to regulate my breathing. The last time we were at the abbey when Voltaire tricked me into giving it all up. Now that everything's been revealed to me I'm sure it had to do with the impulse therapy, my giving in so easily to his demands. And Boris…that bastard.

I don't know why he didn't just kill her back then when I asked for them to let her go. Two years ago – before they even knew that she had Zorn or could challenge the power of the Crystallis or Black Dranzer – killing a simple girl would have been easy for them.

Maybe they did try, but Zorn decided to intervene and keep their efforts from coming to fruition. I don't know.

Two figures appear out of the abyss of darkness in front of me, and I take in the emaciated forms of a few trainees, probably a level under that of Yuri and the Demolition Boyz. They are brandishing their tricked out blades, made with razor sharp attack rings that are probably fit for one purpose: our destruction.

I begin to skid to a halt, ready to duck out of the way of their blows, but it's too late and they've sent the weapons in mine and Chaya's direction. The razor blades mere inches away from my head, I shift downwards in a hasty, diagonal fashion to avoid them.

At the same time as I feel a biting, cutting pain I hear a sharp intake of breath and a cry.

Blood trickles down my cheek from a gash on my cheek where one of the blades connected with my skin and I notice droplets of blood below Chaya, probably having something to do with her pain filled cry. I can't pause for long, knowing that the trainees will probably be reloading their blades or even coming at me physically in moments, and get ready to somehow burn them out of the way. I don't know how I'm supposed to do that, though. My body still feels completely spent from destroying our holding cell.

Their weapons ready they are about to launch them when –

Both of them scream and crumple to their knees. Their eyes are open and they're thrashing around viciously, screaming and yelling as though they are being tortured all over. I have a brief flashback to the night that Chaya screamed and thrashed in such a way – it was last night, wasn't it? It feels like all these events happened so long ago, but it's really only been a space of a few days.

Turning around doubtfully, I catch Chaya's face out of the corner of my eye. She's frowning in concentration, her face pale and tense, and her eyes completely black. Not only have her irises turned black, but the whites of her eyes as well. It's like an empty black glass has been stretched over each eye. A strange hissing noise is coming from her, almost a sign of effort.

"Keep…going!" she orders, her words conveying the toll this display of power is taking on her. I never knew that either she or Zorn would ever be able to inflict that kind of damage on others. It just conveys how desperate she is to get out of here.

I nod and keep running, the weight of her body and the weakness in my own making this escape harder than it should be for me. Didn't I get out of the same situation two years ago –? No, I was alone then and drunken on my own power.

The darkness swallows up the unfortunate trainees behind us as we keep running, the uneven cobbles making me trip several times and Chaya choke in pain.

I need to get out of here fast. This escape has gone on long enough and we need to actually find out exit, before we run into Boris or Voltaire. Two minds like those weak trainees may be easy for Chaya to impart nightmares on, but Boris and Voltaire are of different stock. They've caused nightmares for too many people to be easily affected by mind tricks like that.

I can almost see a light far before me and suddenly recognize where we are. The circular chamber where Boris got to me last time I was here looms before us, although this time I have no intention what so ever of giving in to him if he's going to try. Although I know we're nowhere near the exit from this stupid abbey, I'm glad to know that I can at least recognize our location. Once I get into the chamber I'll be able to figure out which way to go.

I'm almost coming up to the place, and nearly out of the passage, when I see a silver flash whiz right before me and halt, remaining in the passage. The sound of something hitting the stone near me draws my attention and I completely pull to a stop, staring at the blade that is now embedded in the wall.

"Come now, young Mikhail, I've been waiting for you," the sickeningly slick voice of Boris echoes in the chambers before me, even though I can't see him. "You're speed is greatly diminished since the last time…with training we'll hopefully improve that."

I grit my teeth, angry at him thinking that he's actually going to get me again. Chaya is tense behind me and I can tell that she's in great pain. Trying to sidestep Boris with her with me will not only be a hindrance but she could get even more critically hurt. I'll have to somehow take out Boris before we move on.

I glance backwards into the dark, severely doubting that anyone will be able to navigate through that, but all the same worried.

I shake my head.

If someone comes through, she can take care of herself. I've already seen proof of that.

Gently and silently so as not to make a sound, I slowly help let her down from where I'm holding her and prop her up against the wall. My right hand touches her back, which is damp where the blades cut her and when I pull it back comes away sticky with blood. This wound is deeper than the one on my cheek. She's about to hiss in pain, but I hurriedly clamp my other hand over her mouth, shaking my head. It's better if Boris doesn't know that she's here just in case he attempts to use her as my weakness.

Chaya's eyes are wide and almost back to their normal color, with only a faint outline of black a testament to her offensive power. I motion to her that she is to remain quiet, trying to convey with my hands that as soon as she sees a chance, she should run towards the passage across the room. As far as I can recall, this is the passage that leads to the exit beneath the "empty" abbey.

She's shaking her head vigorously, but I stop it, holding her chin in my hands and ordering, my whisper almost completely stolen by the rushing air in the hallways. "You get out of here. I have to do something before I come with you."

For a moment I think she'll refuse, before she looks away and nods.

Her hands have seized mine and are squeezing them, before I pull away from her and dive for the mouth of the passage, rolling out low to the ground, knowing that the bastard will try to get me as soon as I leave the "safety" of the passage. A hair width above me I feel the air shake with silent shots and as I roll to my feet into the middle of the room, I see that my suspicions about Boris were true.

He stands out before me, a firearm raised. All around me, from every passageway except for the one where Chaya lies against the wall, I can see the glint of the razors edge. Boris probably had the entire compound roused from bed tonight to track us down, and I feel a little sorry for the doomed kids. They never should have been involved in this anyhow.

I know that one false move on my part will have their weapons bearing down on me, more to wound than to actually kill me. They're just there to make sure I don't escape.

Boris shoots again and I only manage to duck out of the way in time. He chuckles coldly, cocking the firearm and points it at me again. "You can't outrun me forever, Mikhail."

"And you're not allowed to kill me," I retort, my knees bent, my muscles waiting to propel me away from his next attempt at shooting me. It's only chance that I've made it this far, but I'm hoping that I can fluke it out long enough to get out of this mess.

I highly doubt I'll be able to, though.

"Oh, the poison in these darts is not designed to kill, boy," Boris grins maliciously, making me shiver even though I refuse for him to have any more dominion over me. "But there is enough of a sedative in the formula to put you under the influence for at least a week. And by then our scientists can reprogram you enough that that little thing you call free-will will be but a distant memory."

I grit my teeth, glancing at the gun, then back at his face, before jumping again, at the same time as he pulls the trigger. In my escape I skid to close too one of the exits and one of the kid's razor-blades fly my way. I barely move out of the way before another one of Boris' well-armed shots comes my way. In the distance I hear the clatter as the empty darts fall to the floor without hitting their mark.

My heart rate and breathing is almost suffocating, but I refuse to give in yet.

"Where's your dear friend, boy?" Boris leers at me and I clench my fists.

"Dead," I reply, dodging another few shots. I feel one of them graze the skin of my elbow, hoping it won't affect my fighting.

Boris laughs, loudly and sinisterly. "Wouldn't you like for me to believe that? You know, young Kai, despite the fact that I'm sure that your blast of fire could have incinerated your precious girlfriend, I doubt you would ever put her in direct harm."

"Really?" I bite out, summoning within me as much energy as I can dredge from my weak limbs and body. I feel a strain of heat gather in my chest, the taste of ashes strengthening in my mouth and the sudden rocketing temperature all around me. "Let's try out your incineration theory."

The rushing in my mind explodes outwards along with the blossoming inferno that reaches outwards, engulfing the circular room in flames. There are screams and cries of pain and I crouch over, feeling even more drained from before. That should be enough to get us safe passage through…

My thoughts trail off as I notice that my flames didn't even faze Boris. They flew in a circular pattern around the chamber, obscuring the two of us from the vision of the trainees, and possibly wounding some of them, but the cobbles around Boris show no signs of being touched.

For a moment I wonder if I ran out of energy or if Dranzer has decided to fight against my will now too –

When Boris laughs, brandishing his gun again. "Do you really think we didn't see to it that your hypnotherapy included means to keep you from harming us? What other way could we be sure that you wouldn't attempt to get rid of us once your full potential was realized?"

A sinking feeling is in my stomach. I've already used up enough of my own energy, how am I supposed to escape from this situation? I thought that I'd nullified the hypnotic suggestion from long ago – I managed to break out of their ordered stupor and yet now –

I jump and dodge another round of shots, smacking into a wall near one of the passages. No foreign blade flies my way and I decide this must mean that the trainees are too preoccupied with my flames or are put out of commission. It's a hollow victory

I push myself to my feet, getting ready to run again, but stop cold when I feel the hard, pointed tip of the gun near my temple.

Boris stands above me a crazed, triumphant look on his face, the grin almost vampiric in the light of the flames around us. His voice is cold and fanatical. "Any other smart remarks?"

"Get bent," a voice that belongs to neither of us and Boris cries out suddenly, his arm jerking. He pulls the trigger and I feel the dart whiz past my ear before I fall backwards, catching myself on my hands and staring up in shock.

Boris wrestles with Chaya, who hangs tightly from his neck almost in the same way she clung to me earlier, although the way she's holding onto him now is more of a choke hold than anything else. She's folded her legs around his arms so that he can't use the weapon on her and is struggling with something, grunting both in pain and effort as she tries to maneuver around him.

"What the hell are you doing!" I demand, trying to stand again and nearly falling both times. The stupid idiot, I told her to stay in the shadows, why didn't she listen to me! Now if Boris has her in his grasp we're both in trouble! I stagger to my feet, intent on helping her to the best of my abilities to put Boris out of commission, when there is a sudden choking yell from Boris, followed by one of surprise from Chaya and he somehow manages to break the hold over her legs with his arms and flip her over his head.

Chaya lands heavily before me on the cobblestones, crying in pain when her body connects with the ground and I move closer to her immediately to check and see if she's alright. A fall like that in her condition could be crippling and –

A rasping choking sound fills the air and the both of us look up.

My mouth is open in shock as I notice that Boris is looming above us, grasping at his throat, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. The choking noise comes again, this time accompanied by a gurgle of something. The collar of his shirt is slowly becoming drenched with something, reaching almost down below his heart.

He falls to one knee, his wide, staring eyes fixed on us in seething hatred as blood bubbles over his lips. For a moment he's attempting to raise his weapon towards us, before he falls forward, face first onto the cobblestones. A dark puddle begins to form around his upper body.

I'm at a loss, completely confused, and look down at Chaya, who's wincing as she pushes herself up. There are a few specks of blood on her cheeks, but I don't dwell on these as I stare at her hands. They're bloodied to the point where it's like she's wearing some kind of sinister glove and in her right hand she holds the blade that had embedded itself in the wall before I entered the chamber.

She's breathing hard, and I think for a moment that one of her ribs might have punctured a lung. We both need medical attention, and fast.

"What the hell were you thinking," I chide, slowly coaxing her into a sitting position despite this being one of the last things I want to do. "You could have gotten killed."

"Last time I checked I was saving your ass," she replied, the brazen words muffled by the weakness and pain in her voice.

"You killed him," I tell her simply, staring into her eyes, willing her to deny it.

Her hands tighten on the bloodied razor blade in her hands. "You were in trouble. And in the end it's what he would have done for you."

I continue to stare at her, trying to find something to say but it's as though my tongue is frozen. I want to believe that it was Zorn that had taken her over to cause her to commit the murder. I never wanted her to bloody her hands, especially not for me. If I had never gotten her involved with this she never would have been driven to take another human life.

"Kai?" she's looking at me, fearfully, but I don't reply. Truthfully, I don't think I could. I remain silent, gathering her up in my arms with great difficulty and looking towards our exit. We have to get out of here now or we never will. After we escape I can worry about these issues. And possibly disappear from them. But until them we're both still in trouble.

I know perfectly well that our escape is our only chance at living. Even though Voltaire and his men won't kill us, I know that Zorn has no qualms about it. I promised to protect not only Chaya, but the powers of the sacred spirits. If I don't, Zorn will kill us both. And I don't want to have to imagine how she'll do it, either.

That's why in this long run, I have to make it count.

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TBC 


	23. Gewalt

_**Alptraum**_

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Gewalt 

I feel so numb that the pain in my body is barely noticeable. With every step that Kai takes I'm sure pain should be shooting up my body, especially up my spine which hasn't felt right since Boris flipped me, but all I can really feel is almost a detached reality.

Boris…

I killed him.

I killed him in cold blood and all I can think about is how sticky my hands are. Isn't this what serial killers say their first kill is like? No, they say that it's exciting and masterful, right? But all I feel is numb. And a little sick.

The memory of the blade slicing through his skin and jugular, bringing forth that spurt of blood is enough to make me want to throw up. But there's no feeling in my body and I don't think I have even enough energy for that.

The memory of the way the blood pooled around his body…I shiver, burying my face in Kai's shoulder despite the hurt, shutting my eyes tightly, trying to banish the picture on the back of my eyelids. Even though the nauseous ramifications blood has always had on me, there is none now. Almost as though I'm cured.

Zorn cured me of my nightmares just in time for me to live them myself.

I clench the blade to me, more out of need to hold something than any real security. It's sharp and cuts into my palms, but I ignore it.

I can feel it. I'm alive. I escaped death once tonight, but for another they weren't so lucky.

Because of me. Because I killed him. I know Boris was evil and sadistic and twisted…but for me to kill him? For me to snuff out a life, I want to cry and I wonder what right I have to take the life of another when mine was just given back to me, if only for a moment.

Maybe I was given that second chance as an extension, just to kill him, before I die for real. The sound of Kai's ragged breathing makes me hate myself for thinking that. I'm so useless while he tries to get us out of here and the only thing I could do was the worst thing.

I saw the look in his eyes when he told me I'd killed Boris. I saw Kai's disgust with how easily I told him why I had done it, even though I know that at that moment something else was speaking for me. I think me brain left me for a moment back then.

Or maybe it was pity?

I don't know.

My head hurts from all my thoughts, and my constant attempts to keep the darkness surrounding us. I have a feeling I'll soon use of the last of my energy and then both Kai and I will be on our own. And both of us can barely stand, I remember. The only thing keeping Kai going is a spurt of adrenaline and determination.

"Almost there," he grunts, more to himself than me. I imagine that I can feel a cold burst of air where the exit from this hell might be. Maybe we will get out of this. Maybe this will all turn out alright and we can go back to normal –

There's a shattering blast and suddenly both Kai and I are flying forward, encompassed in a burning darkness that sears flesh and blood before we're propelled into a wall.

– and maybe I'm just living in a dream.

I choke at the throbbing sensation in my chest. My head hit the wall, although the rest of my body was shielded by Kai somehow. I don't know how he did it, but in the blast he angled himself to that he hit the wall instead of me. Almost as though he knew what one more direct hit would do. His right hand is broken and bleeding, one of the bones in sticking through the skin where it collided at full throttle with the wall.

If we don't get out soon there won't be anything left of us.

We both fall to the ground, which is uneven and it takes me a few moments to realize that we're on a stone stairwell that is lined with oil lamps that have shattered from the blast. My skin burns and even in the dark I can see the blisters forming on my arms. That blaze didn't come from Dranzer, I know that much.

Looking around and helping each other up, it doesn't take too long before Kai and I discover the origin of the painful attack.

Voltaire stands far above us at the head of the stairs, his arms crossed and his face ferocious looking. Almost immediately I sense something around him that makes me shrink back at the mere magnitude of the power. The world goes gray as Zorn's sight shows me the black fire that is cursing through the body of Voltaire. I recognize it immediately as that of –

"Black Dranzer," Kai wheezes, struggling to his feet and pushing his uninjured arm out in front of me in a protective gesture. As though his arm's going to save me, much less himself?

"I thought it was destroyed," I murmur, my eyes fixed on Voltaire's more imposing than usual stance.

"I'm sure you did," Voltaire speaks, answering our questions and fears, his voice laced with a magnitude of venom, his voice a growl of something more – something distinctly immortal and dangerous. "But then again, you are both but naïve children that will be punished."

Dust rains down on me from the wall I just collided with. Before me, Kai is trembling, although anger, hatred and fear radiates off of him. I open my mouth, without really knowing what I'm going to say, and freeze as I suddenly feel something else in addition to Voltaire's new countenance –

Mixed within the dark fires that course through Kai's grandfather's body, I can feel a sinister wave of darkness radiating out of it. At the core of Black Dranzer's power…is Zorn?

There's no mistaking the sinister shadow in its familiarity. Almost as though bidden by my thoughts I see a wisp of a shadow encompass Voltaire, and if it weren't for the knowledge and feeling of her power in my, I would think that she had abandoned me for Voltaire.

I'm at a loss for once, and my mind goes completely blank. I don't understand. How could Zorn be here, encompassing me and allowing me to keep this ethereal darkness surrounding us – and yet be protecting Voltaire and the sinister might that is Black Dranzer at the same time?

Kai notices something as well, although to the extent I'm not sure until he actually breathes out Zorn's name in shock. He's staring at me now in confusion and a twinge of something that eerily resembles betrayal. What the – he thinks I had something to do with this!

It fades almost instantly and is replaced with worry and understanding, and then once again he's glaring at Voltaire with even more hatred then I thought was possible for him to manufacture. His voice is low and dangerous when he speaks, but the extent of his anger is felt when the heat from his body sparks causing a thin film of flames to cover his body before disappearing. "You stole our sacred spirits."

"I dislike the term, grandson," Voltaire says dismissively, and we can both hear the growling, droning hum of what sounds like two voices speaking in sync with Voltaire. "I have merely experimented and created a weapon capable of keeping two such as yourself in check – as well as a new power source that might even eclipse your so called amazing powers."

I remain quiet, trying to coax a reaction out of Zorn other than the angry pulse of her might within me that is causing a nauseous feeling to rise up inside of me. Without waiting for her words I can tell what she knows – this hybrid of Black Dranzer and Zorn has been chemically enhanced to the extent that it's stronger than both Dranzer and Zorn – possibly put together, even though it's not the original.

"I don't understand grandfather," Kai says quietly. "I can barely harness Black Dranzer, and it was you who said I was the only one alive that could. How is it that you have it, as well as Zorn?"

Voltaire laughs cruelly, as you'd expect from a villain like him I guess, and looks at us as though we're retarded. "Now why would you want to know that – unless you're intrigued by the power? And possibly the wish to wield it?"

"I just want to know why you haven't been ripped apart yet – it's my experience that both of those spirits are not the nicest ones around and wouldn't hesitate to destroy a slime ball like you."

"It's because they're not the originals," I murmur, before I even know what I'm talking about. And then it suddenly clicks, despite Zorn having conveyed nothing to me. "Black Dranzer, no matter how powerful, is still just a human-made copy – made scientifically. So technically it can be biologically engineered so anyone can use it – whether they're qualified or not doesn't matter. And that's what Zorn's there for – " as I say it I realize the truth in my words " – she's a fail-safe! Or at least, the copy of her is engineered that way – but I don't…understand…how did you get Zorn?"

Voltaire doesn't have a chance to answer – not that he was going to, I don't think – before Kai speaks. "How else does he get anything? He steals it. He probably had your vital information gathered the minute you got in here."

I wince at the thought. The realization that these freaks know more about me than anyone else is frightening. Imagine any of this ever falls into someone else's hands? As if these freaks aren't enough, there's the possibility of governments getting hold of this information. And then I – not even me, Kai too – will be in serious trouble. Probing, tests, genetics and other crap – we're screwed even if we do get out of this!

Kai's reading my thoughts I think. Screwed one way, screwed the other way. Which is the lesser of the two evils here? Either way I think we're going to die here.

Voltaire steps forward, down the stone stairs. As he walks, there's a groaning, almost like dulled thunder and the feeling of the air being compressed around the three of us. My head hurts from trying to keep the darkness surrounding the hallways and keeping us with only Voltaire to deal with. For a moment I think about trying to fool him the same way as I did the two trainees with the nightmares and the darkness – but Zorn screams at me that with Voltaire somehow inoculated with Zorn, it would be a waste.

Besides, what would just getting past him mean? He'd come after us again.

We have to attack him.

But…I'm at a loss to how. Both Kai and I are both sufficiently weakened and these biologic copies of our sacred spirits have been infused with much more power than what we even have. Or at least…what I have.

Kai's hand is on my shoulder and he's in front of me something, braving the compressing air. "Stay here. And when you can…run."

"Are you insane!" I explode, but am cut off by Voltaire's snort of mirth.

"You really believe that? Naïve child…maybe I'll just take your spirits and kill you to rid me of your stupidity," he shakes his head in disgust.

"Yeah? Not happening old man," Kai snarls, and the fire has ignited again. I feel the air tight around me and the transparent darkness and its force surround me protectively as the entire hallway is suddenly exploding in flames. It's as though even the air is on fire in this blazing inferno.

Voltaire is unfazed by the flames, which isn't surprising, considering they don't touch him. A shield of darkness and flames keeps him safe. Kai will have to actually have contact with him to beat him.

And by beat I'm sure that I mean kill.

The tongues of fire cause the illusion of flaming wings encompassing Kai's body and for a moment I see the flicker of what might possibly be Dranzer, before he hurtles towards his grandfather, fist raised with the intent to drop him on contact.

The dust holding the bricks of the tunnels together singes and disappears into the fire, and the groaning of the structure happens again. For a moment I wonder if this place is flame proof – and then remember that the flames from Dranzer are much hotter than any human known fire.

That's not a good thing.

Neither is the fact that moments before Kai can land a blow on his grandfather, he suddenly crumples to the ground, clutching his head and screaming in pain. Voltaire hasn't touched him or shown any sign of having done anything. He looked bored, actually. For a moment I consider that he too can inflict nightmares on others…

But then he smirks slowly and cruelly, his words echoing through the rushing fire. "I thought I had gone over this with you, Mikhail. You can not harm us. We are immune to you. Not even your will is strong enough to break the hypnotic suggestion placed in your head."

"That's bull – Kai broke it before when he got us out of the cell!" I blurt out before I think, earning the cold gaze of Voltaire's only living guardian upon myself. It's so cold and empty that I shiver.

"Do you really think it had anything to do with that?" he's disgusted with me. "He might have defied my orders, but think about it. Was he meaning to harm me in the process? No, he was intent to save you from burning, you ignorant child. And judging from the blood on your hands and the direction you just came from – he could not lay a hand or his abilities on Boris either." I shrink, the memory of not thinking, but just tackling the slime ball from behind and slicing into his throat still strong in me mind. "How did it feel to take a live, young lady?" He licks his lips. "It was satisfying, was it not?"

"SHUT UP!" I yell, the shield around me wavering unstably for a moment and allowing the flames to lick inward. The entire compound seems to shake. There's a groan from the stone walls of the Abbey and a thundering tremble. The burning dust falls downward, disintegrating in the burning air before it hits the ground.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" he asks me silently; patronizingly.

Kai has in the meantime stood up, and immediately launches himself at Voltaire again. Again he falls to the floor, clutching his head and in misery and pain. I'm torn between yelling at him to stop trying and hurting himself further and to tell him to keep at it because a part of me believes that he can do it.

And if he can't?

Then I'll have to, I decide, my knees shaking.

Am I prepared to take another life?

Kai stands again, taking another miserable step forward, before falling again and pulling away again. The flames disperse for a moment, before burning back, although this time not as intense as before. He's getting weaker and he can't keep fruitlessly attacking Voltaire.

Am I…?

Absolutely.

But before I can plan a way to do this, Voltaire seems to tire of Kai's attempts and suddenly raises his arms. To my shock and horror, the flames are diffused and the air is clear again, yet Voltaire is still safe and looking as though he was never ruffled at all.

His mouth quirks strangely and I swear he says 'my turn' before there's a sudden dull roar and a whir of black flames and cool wind explode outwardly at us, causing the impact like a colliding vehicle to blow us both backwards, even me within my dark shield. Much like Voltaire was repelled by me in the prison cell earlier, so the two of us are repelled this time. The collision with the wall hurts worse than any of the injuries I've gotten in the past week together.

Why the hell am I still alive? I wonder as I recover from the daze, my entire frame sliding down the wall and the stars in my eyes. How many times have I been wounded in a way that I should die but I'm not dead yet? I'm just in monumental pain. There's blood in my mouth and everywhere else.

Somewhere near me Kai moans but I can't see him because there's something in my left eye. Blood, I think, and it's blurring everything. Where's it coming from? I reach up slowly and feel a shard of glass from the oil lamps embedded in my forehead, just above my hairline. It's small, but when I remove it, the bleeding increases.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck…and fuck!

My right eye has begun to swell shut, but I can still see out of it. Enough to notice Voltaire coming closer to us, malicious intent evident on his features. Almost as soon as I notice this I feel myself being lifted by something and I'm crushed against the wall again with backbreaking force.

The thundering rumble has started again and there's shaking all around. The debris and glass and rocks are shaking on the ground at such a rate it's as though someone is juggling them up and down in their hands. Beside me Kai yells in pain and when I try to look I find that I can't move anything. I am pressed up against the wall, spread eagle, everything paralyzed by Voltaire's Zorn, and I feel the burning against my flesh. My heart beats frantically and I feel the blood choking me.

Voltaire is two feet away from us now, grinning like some kind of hungry monster that's about to get a five gazillion course meal. His eyes rest on me depravedly and I feel the need to throw up strong within me. He comes closer to me, reaching out.

I snarl, spitting out the mouthful of blood from my split lips, hoping to get him in the face.

The blood bursts into flames in the air, before disappearing and Voltaire looks at me cruelly, almost pityingly.

The blow comes before I can brace myself to it and my head bangs into the wall that I'm trapped against, scraping against the laceration above my eye. I'm in so much pain…I want to die…why couldn't I just die before?

This new blow makes me conscious of how unstable the staircase is. The entire underground compound for that matter. We need to get out…even if we're going to die, I refuse to die in here. I need enough strength for that at least!

The memory of the burning blood triggers something from before. Blood and fire. The raining blood from my dreams…the ones that Kai saw – he could see them because of –

"Kai…!" I croak, my voice sounding like something' severed my vocal chords. My torn and bleeding hands that now match my feet reach for Kai, who is silent beside me. I…need…to reach…!

"How touching…I hope you don't miss your feelings for my worthless grandson girl, because they are the first to go."

Before he does it, I can tell he's going to send another blast of preternatural power my way and will Zorn to give up shielding everything else – the corridors, the building, myself – just to stop his blow for a few seconds. Just enough for me to reach for Kai. I mean…I should be able to! I don't have any hypo-crap holding me from hurting this asshole…but if I'm strong enough is the next question.

I find out when I see the solid mass of black that has surrounded Voltaire in such a way that he can't see us anymore and I can't see him. I shiver, knowing that this is only temporary – probably not even for more than a few seconds at the most. Immediately, I begin to fight against the hold his Zorn has had on me, reaching my left hand towards Kai and my good eye strains in his direction.

It's like a mantra in my mind.

Kai. Kai. Kai. Kai. Kai…

I know that his hand is broken and that one of his finger bones is poking through the skin. If I can just…

I feel Zorn's grip breaking and Voltaire's power returning. My fingers feel as though they'll break if I reach any further.

Please, please, please…! Just a touch, just a touch will…

The tip of my bloodstained finger connects with the broken finger and he grunts in pain from the contact and that's when I feel it happening again. From my end it's always more painful trying to do this, but for once all I feel is a draining sensation and then nothingness. There's none of the sucking, bone shattering pain or feeling of burning skin or images of any kind as our blood connects our sacred spirits.

I'm numb, lying back against the wall because I can't move anymore. I'm trying, but nothing works anymore. I think either my energy has gone or I've become a quadriplegic or something, but my ability to move is gone. Voltaire snarls, coming forward again, intent to attack me, the black flames burning around him again and I think it's over.

When suddenly Kai leaps forward as though his strength as returned and he's hurtling towards his grandfather. I notice his eyes are black like a film of darkness has passed over him, but his skin is burning as is the rest of him. Behind him the figure of a large bird of flame crackles and explodes into view. Through his snarl of rage I notice the image of larger canines and claws, like a monster.

I think I'm hallucinating…I must be!

Until I see him swipe at Voltaire and come away with bloodied fingers, the gashes in Voltaires face deep and bleeding profusely as though he was attacked by some wild animal.

He roars with rage and suddenly Kai is flying backwards again, hitting the wall and falling into a heap.

This time he doesn't get up.

Voltaire looks pissed beyond reason and I think he's actually going to kill us this time, regardless of if it fits into his original plans or not. The hybrid power is over him, sweeping in a violent typhoon of power that should never have been his and should never have existed and oh shit this is going to hurt so much and – Voltaire suddenly screams in pain?

Everything is shaking, not only the building, but him. And me. And I'm on the uneven ground of the stairs, collapsed in a heap and looking up in awe at what's going on.

The gash in his face is burning and festering and he's clawing at it as though that will stop his pain. The two powers circle above him, reminding be suddenly of vultures, and the dripping blood sputters and pops, as though being lapped at by the two manufactured powers. Wrath is what I can feel from them. Wrath at this human being for thinking he could control the power of a sacred spirit – for trying to manufacture something that is unique – it's a punishment if there ever was any.

The dark auras suddenly begin to sift downwards to Voltaire, who is now on his knees, still trying to stop all this. His fingers are rivaling mine in red color but he doesn't notice as they hybrid completely disappears into the wound on his face.

His pupils dilate in shock and a rasping cough echoes through the shaking room.

For a moment, the three of us are completely alone and he looks like a lost, battered old man.

Before some type of monumental explosion takes place and suddenly all that's left of Voltaire is a bloodstain on the dusty ground.

I'm confused and lost and disbelieving all at once. I don't understand.

Where did he go?

Of course, I don't get to ponder this as there's an almighty crash and I instinctively look up, watching the blocks and bricks of stone from above that took as much strain as they could, hurtle down to us at a crushing rate.

* * *

CLIFFHANGER! 

You guys know I love you, right? How shall I end this…they could survive…they could die…one could survive…one could die…I wonder?

Okay, yeah, I'm cruel but I do it because I like to keep you guys on your toes. Any unanswered questions will be answered next chapter I hope.

R&R please,

Kuriness


	24. Tragodie

_**Alptraum**_

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four: Tragödie

I hear the sound of something falling and a crash but it all really means nothing to me. I can't feel anymore. I don't feel or care or even know what's going on. A useless numbness, like I've burnt out – literally – has overtaken my entire mind and body. I can't feel my own let alone Dranzer's. My awareness is narrowed down to the colors on the back of my eyelids.

Voltaire…I don't know what happened after blanking out. I remember Chaya reaching out and then immense pain before something like a vacuum and then nothingness. This silent unmoving nothingness.

It takes more effort than running a marathon to force my eyes open and survey the scene. It's hard because of the darkness threatening me, and for once it's not the ethereal type produced by Zorn.

There's no trace of Voltaire and I don't know what to make of this, when my thoughts return to Chaya. My heart feels like a searing iron was dropped on it as my eyes frantically search for her because my body can't. It takes me longer than I want to find her, but when I do the choking feeling doesn't seem to want to dissipate.

She's lying against the ruin of the stairwell, her eyes staring up at the ceiling which is…moving?

At second glance I realize it's not moving – it's in the process of falling. But for some reason, it's being repelled by some invisible force. Something coming from Chaya. And I don't think that it's Zorn.

"Kai…" her voice is raspy and she barely moves her lips, let alone the rest of her body as she speaks. The floating falling stone ceiling trembles, as though my name has jogged her concentration. "Can you…move?"

For a second this seems like the stupidest question at this moment when she's in this condition and I wonder why the hell she would want to know that, when it hits me. And she speaks again.

"Can't…hold it for long…just a few more minutes really," she speaks through gritted teeth. "Last chance for you to go."

I want to tell her that she's out of her mind and that there's no way in hell that I'm leaving her here or letting her sacrifice her life to get me out of this abbey. If anything it should be the other way around. Of course if we weren't in this situation she'd make fun of me and call me sexist for some reason alien to me and why the hell am I thinking stupid, useless thoughts when I should be telling her this?

All that comes from me is a groan of pain.

She closes her eyes slowly, opening them again painfully. So blinking hurts her too?

I saved her life once tonight and now she's going to die anyway? I can't move…I can't do anything…Voltaire was right, I really am fucking weak if I can't take the heat.

There's a groan from above. She can't hold this forever. And I can't move. I can't even summon Dranzer to help me because I think she's completely spent. Zorn as well, though I want to know what's holding up the stone from crushing us.

"Kai…GO!" Chaya growls, slowly and surely turning over so that she's lying on her stomach on the stairs below me, glaring up at me. The compound shakes violently as her concentration wavers and she winces, tensing and gripping the stone to get it back.

Chaya, even if I wanted to go I couldn't. In fact…I feel as though I'm slipping…out of consciousness…there's a heavy pull on the back of my eyelids.

Fight it. Fight it, moron, you need to think of something quick.

She groans and I notice her crawling forward, one step at a time. Each one brings to weight of the roof closer to the two of us, until she's not even a foot away. Her eyes are unreadable and she's mumbling something under her breath. "…can't move…get…you out…"

I want to tell her I think its futile and that I think we're done.

But of course, I can't. And it's cut off when I watch her, defying the odds, slowly moving upwards. For a moment I think she's just moving forward again, but then I see her torn feet straightening against the stone steps and her knees unbending and that she's now shaking, but trying to stand over me. She's crouched and probably in more agony than I am. I want to yell at her again for being an idiot and hurting herself for nothing.

"…stupid!"

"You're stupid," she replies, still gritting her teeth, hooking an arm through one of mine and slowly, painstakingly hoisting me up. "Not…dying here…!"

Half dragging, half carrying me, she pulls me up the stairs, our knees skidding against the rock as we pretty much crawl up the steps. As we get higher I hear crashes beneath us and realize that as we leave the circular staircase where we last saw Voltaire, the ceiling caves in behind us. I think it's safe to say no one will be using this exit ever again…

We reach a sort of entrance hallway, leading to what I remember to be the actual exit to the compound, up through the abbey. A light, faraway feeling flutters in my stomach. Hope?

Whatever it is disappears violently when I notice four shadows up ahead that have nothing to do with any of Chaya's power. My dragging feet and Chaya's rapidly declining strength are the least of our problems now. We're screwed for sure if they decide to take us on.

Yuri leads the Demolition Boyz forward, all four of them with razor blades in their hands and menacing looks on their faces. When we reach them, half-way to the exit, everything seems to stop, even the crackling and the falling dust of the decaying compound.

Yuri looks surprised to see us alive – both of us, no less. He's staring at Chaya in awe, and then at me in reserved calculation. I wait, knowing something is about to happen. Behind him, Bryan, Sergei and Ivan don't seem to share his feelings. They all look as though they have nothing better in life than to kill us, but wait for Yuri's signal.

The redhead finally clears his throat, seemingly oblivious to the destruction going on around here and asks in one word, "Boris?"

It takes all my willpower and strength to answer this. It's something that I should answer, not Chaya. She should never have been involved in this. It was mine to live and be burdened with and she involved herself and…it's my fault. I feel myself heavier on her as I barely whisper, "Dead."

Yuri's eyes are shadowed at this answer, and the others behind him suddenly appear to deflate. The dust is falling so thickly from the ruined ceiling that it coats his red hair, making him look as though he's aged sixty years. The other boys look lost for a moment, but buck up when Yuri asks, "Voltaire?"

This time Chaya beats me to it. "Him too."

She brandishes the blade she used to kill Boris. I didn't know she still had it. I feel sick and the light of the exit from this hell seems to be getting dimmer. She's right. We can't stay here talking. Yuri should know this.

He nods, looking down. The others begin to swear and lament in Russian because it's the only thing they can do. I know that when Voltaire and Boris were out of the picture they had a hard time of it. They don't know how to exist without the harsh treatment of those two and now that their gone…

Bryan makes a few motions with his hands and the two behind him leave. He sends me a hateful glance, before following, barking orders about them searching for Boris and Voltaire and that we are lying. Yuri just stares.

And then he moves aside, gesturing for us to leave.

Chaya's as shocked as I am. "You're letting us go?"

Yuri doesn't reply, almost as though he doesn't know why he's doing it, before nodding and turning towards where the others disappeared. His meaning is plain. He's going to return into the unstable, decaying compound. For all I know it could still be blazing in there but he doesn't care. He keeps walking towards it.

"Tala, wait!" Chaya yells. I feel her weakening against me, my weight slowly catching up to her and the strain of her mind causing great stress.

Yuri stops and for a moment I think he'll ignore her, before turning around slightly and watching her expectantly.

"C-come with us," she manages finally, her voice sounding tired, worn and weak. "Th-there's nothing for you there. You'll die…and…and…"

"Thank you, but no," Yuri says, his voice low and flat, although for a moment I feel as though I can hear some kind of emotion deep in his throat. "There is nothing for me out there either. Good luck."

And he's gone.

We both don't move for a second before a large hunk of stone breaks free above us and we hurry out of the way. Chaya's hold on the structure is weakening greatly and we're going to be buried alive in here in less than a minute. I don't think that the way we're hobbling, her dragging me and wounded herself, we're going to make it. But there have been a lot of that tonight so maybe some kind of deity is actually pulling for us.

Fifty more steps…

I can feel both of our hearts pounding, my blood pounding in my ears. Out of the corner of my eye I notice again the large gash in her forehead, the blood mingling with sweat and effort. We need medical help if we get out of here.

Twenty more steps…

I think I can actually feel her pain…like knives shooting up through the feet.

Nine more steps…

Four…three…two…

The light of the evening is like breaking through murky water to the surface. One more flight of stairs and we're in the enclosure of the abbey and out of the catacombs. When we were brought here not even six hours ago it was cloudy and snow was falling in droves.

Now it's clear, the only thing in the sky the moon, shining eerily down.

The second that we've stepped out of the opening to the catacombs there's an almighty crash and I know that Chaya just allowed herself to let go of every energy she was holding onto keeping the place up. She's crying it seems and for a moment I don't know why, and then I remember that Yuri and the others were still in there.

I want to comfort her and tell her none of this was her fault and that she couldn't do anything to stop it from happening.

But I can't. And I don't. And I forget I was going to when the ground beneath us begins to shake and I realize that with no more support beneath it, the abbey itself it about to come tumbling down on us.

We haven't escaped the danger yet.

Chaya notices this too and her eyes widen. She immediately begins to drag me towards the door of the place, leaving a bloody trail of footprints behind us as we walk. Her knees are bent and we're both almost crouched as we walk, or should I say, hobble out of this place. I half expect there to be guards or some further hindrance on our part to keep us from leaving the abbey completely.

But there's none.

We leave through the large oak doors just as the ground behind us collapses like sand beneath our feet. It begins to follow us out onto the snow and streets, as far as the underground chambers reached beneath us and Chaya swears. Her foot catches on something and suddenly we're flying face first into the snow banks.

The fiery explosion of the abbey behind us is unexpected but nevertheless, we both shield out faces in the snow, listening to the loud and war-cry-like shriek in the air. It burns but it's a pleasant burn, reminding us that we're alive. And they're not. We're finally free. I'm finally free.

I still can't move my limbs, but my head turns to one side to look at Chaya gratefully.

She's unconscious.

She's finally reached her limit, having went to the edge to keep the both of us safe. I think for a moment that she's amazing and that I never could have gotten free without her. Because it wasn't just me that did any of this and if it wasn't for her I'd still be in Voltaire's little cell, awaiting his next orders.

I frown, suddenly recalling the circumstances of my parents' death.

Even under the influence I should never have committed a crime like that. And that last blast that destroyed the abbey…that was Dranzer, I know it was. I suddenly completely understand what happened and that once again Chaya and I share something in common.

These sacred spirits are just that. Sacred and something that no human can understand. Not even me or Chaya, although we might have a little bit more knowledge than the average human. The spirits lent us their power when we were in need, not because of any other reason other than that we are their safe havens. They have their own mind and own power and can use it how they want, although our will does limit them somewhat. I never would have purposefully burned the deathly compound below us, but it was Dranzer's will and possible venting of frustration at still being encased inside my body.

My eyelids are heavy and I try to fight off the will to sleep, knowing that if Chaya and I remain out here in the cold for much longer and in our condition we're going to catch hypothermia or something. My fears are put to rest when I suddenly hear worried voices and footsteps running in our direction. Evidentially the blast from the abbey was seen from the streets.

There's suddenly a group of unknown faces looming over us, asking if we're alright and what happened but even if I had the intention of answering, I don't. Because there's a little corner of peaceful darkness waiting and I think, for once, I deserve it.

* * *

So, although this fic is winding down there are some things that are still unclear...which means if I have the time you "might" get a sequel...

The next chapter is the last one guys, enjoy it!

R&R please,

Kuriness


	25. Nachwort

_**Alptraum**_

Author: KuriQuinn

Rating: R for language, mature themes, violence and psychological depression

Summary: Sometimes the most terrifying thing in the world is what's staring back at you in the mirror.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. All rights are reserved to Aoki Takao who created Beyblade

**Note: There's a change in point-of-view in this chapter, mostly because I want more sides to the story than just the one. Plus, I couldn't choose between Kai or Chaya…heh-heh.**

Giant Thanks To: Vixen's Blood, ChOcoLAte lUVr, ghostymangarocker, Kai-Dranzer, So-kun, Trunks' Brat Baby, grand admiral chelli, thought i hoose death inste..., AnkleBiter Conundrum, Kimik0123, silent-lucidity, pen names r us, cynical.life, storm-of-insanity, sakuya-kaleido, tala kismet, Alex,Golden-Nightmare, becks101, Omnimalevolent, person, fallen phoenix of darkness, utopiangem, Jaded-Reflection, Galactic-Girl-Amber, Midnight Insanity, Nicky, Flash, puppy444219, Tuatha de Danaan, Sanity Challenged, XxCrimsonShadowsxX, Moon Phases, VGMaster04, Kaigal, Sea-Tiger170, Tikytikytavvi101, CarmenTakoshi, Lady Deathscythe, SkyBlueSunShine, My Brutal Romance, grEMLin evil, Eyes of a Demon, Moranar, Crimson, Kyuubi no Tai, Achava - for the lovely reviews and constructive criticisms. Thanks for your supports and having followed this fic. You guys rock.

* * *

Nachwort:

Chief Constable Pyotr Zolnerovich stares at the sight of before him, frowning in concentration as his men, as well as the crimes scene investigators rove over the snow surrounding what was once Balkov Abbey. The place itself is in ruins, as well as the ground surrounding it for almost an entire city block clear around it. All of it is fenced off with police tape, while officers push back the curious crowds.

Among them are a group of tenacious young men and an old portly man that demands in broken Russian to know what is going on and where the two people found at the scene are being held. Zolnerovich hates foreigners, and this man is fast becoming more of a nuisance than he needs right now. He refuses to answer, telling his men to deal with them. One boy is protesting in English about something, looking very upset. He looks like a girl, really, blond and blue-eyed and tearful.

/_Please, please forgive me,_

_But I won't be home again./_

Zolnerovich shrugs, not really caring as long as they don't impede his investigation.

The snow within the fenced off area is disturbed with footprints and even more disturbingly, blood. Footprints leading from within the abbey itself lead all the way to where the two kids collapsed earlier near the crowd. Zolnerovich didn't arrive until after they were driven to the hospital, but he understands that there were two teenagers, a girl and a boy. The girl was apparently barefoot and suffering from critical injuries that should have killed her. The boy was no better off, but he at least was wearing shoes.

_/'Maybe someday you'll look up,  
And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one:'/_

That's all he knows, because almost immediately after arriving and hearing this, he was pushed out of the way by a group of snot nosed investigators and members of what he's sure are the secret service. There are whispers of murders and an escaped criminal and his grandson being involved, but that's all Zolnerovich gets.

_/'Isn't something missing?'/_

The place is a mess. Over near an opening in the ground that seems to have collapsed, the team has found a body of a middle-aged, Caucasian male, his throat sliced open but no other signs of harm. There are obvious signs of dragging from nearby, and the trail leads towards the spot where the two kids were lying, which is confusing because those two were apparently barely able to get away from the collapsing building by themselves, according to eyewitnesses. The snow near them looks as though it was disturbed and replaced, but it's done so strangely that it's impossible for it to be true. A bloodstained blade, like one of those spinning tops that kids play with nowadays lies abandoned in the snow. Zolnerovich has it collected for DNA analysis and fingerprinting. They might have a murder weapon on their hands.

Before the end of the night is through, his men have collected four completely different DNA types and fingerprints, both from the blade and various debris found around the wreckage, as well as the corpse. The identification is in process, but Zolnerovich hears one of the snot nosed agents barking orders into his cell phone that as soon as the two injured persons are identified and conscious, he wants to hear it.

"They are not to be released or allowed to talk to anyone until we get there."

Zolnerovich understands now. So there was a murder that happened – probably those two punks figured that demolishing an old empty abbey would be fun and then found out it wasn't so empty. He shakes his head, mumbling about kids today, and goes back to work, carefully avoiding talking to the yelling British old man and the four other whining young men. The blond one is actually crying now.

Pathetic.

(-)

_/'You won't cry for my absence, I know –_

_You forgot me long ago.'/_

Nurse Ivana Sokoll walks quickly towards the ICU, reading over the clipboard citing the injuries of her patients. She doesn't know which one looks worse. The boy's face has already been stitched up, she's seen to that, but he still has to have something done about the fractured skull and three broken fingers on his right hand. Severe bruising, one broken rib, ankle sprain and fractured jaw... The girl is just as badly injured – multiple lacerations to the feet and head, signs of a cigarette burn and second degree burns, three broken ribs, bruised lung and fractured skull…

_/'Am I that unimportant?'/_

She can barely believe the injuries sustained by the two teenagers that were brought in barely an hour ago. She heard that they were caught in a collapsing abbey after pulling some kind of prank. A deadly one, it seems, considering she heard there was a body found in the debris and the remnants and blood work of another. She wonders how they got out of the building with only these wounds.

_/'Am I so insignificant?'/_

She was given orders to watch the two of them until the authorities showed up – they're not even allowed to contact family members or anyone more than they need. Sokoll finds this strange, considering the circumstances, but who is she to argue with her superiors?

_/'Isn't something missing?'/_

She turns into the room where the two were brought in once their superficial wounds were treated, and promptly drops the clipboard.

_/'Isn't someone missing me?'_

The two beds are empty, the blankets tied to the bed and leading out the open window. Nurse Sokoll runs forward, sticking her head out the window of the hospital and into the cold night, staring down at the drop below her. Bed sheets would never be enough to get them out of this room.

Frantically she runs from the room, calling all down the hall for help and that they need anyone they can get ten floors downstairs below the window.

But something tells her that they won't be there.

(-)

The baggage compartment is cold, and they've already opened up whatever bags they could find to cover up. Their clothes are somewhat ragged at the moment. Chaya smiles weakly at Kai as he bandages the wounds on her feet again, and then reaches to the first aid kit he stole from the hospital and begins to clean some of her already stitched up wounds. He hasn't spoken since she woke up and he was running with her in his arms through the alleys towards the trains.

_/'Even though I'm the sacrifice,  
You won't try for me, not now.'/_

She's confused, but decides not to ask because he usually has a reason for something.

It's another hour before she finally gets tired of waiting and asks loudly, "Now what?"

_/'Though I'd die to know you love me,  
I'm all alone.'/_

He looks at her seriously, pausing from disinfecting the cigarette burn on her arm, and then leans back, sighing. "They're going to come after us."

"Who?" she's confused, and a little scared, not that she'll tell him that.

"Everyone. Voltaire's people know we're still out here and will be waiting to get us at any moment. And the authorities – most of them work out of Voltaire's pocket anyhow, but some will actually think we had something to do with the explosion."

"But…we did…"

_/'Isn't someone missing me?'/_

"But they won't know that," he replies crossly, his tone guarded and annoyed that she doesn't understand what he's telling her. "We have to get out of Moscow – we can get medical help when we get to St-Petersburg and then…I guess we split up. I can access my money and take out cash before they freeze my account, maybe get you a plane ticket to New York – "

"Hold on, what?" she demands, anger sparking in her eyes. "What the hell are you saying, Kai?"

_/'Please, please forgive me,  
But I won't be home again.'/_

"We stand a better chance apart – and I've put you through enough already. Besides…the longer you're with me the worse."

"For who! Me or you!" she hisses, only then remembering that they've kind of hijacked a baggage car and that she should be more silent.

"…I'm not…good for you," he says evasively. "I have blood on my hands and – "

"And so do I! Literally" she protests, holding up her hands. They've been washed, but he can still see the caked blood beneath her fingernails. "But it wasn't put their by choice – for neither of us."

_/'I know what you do to yourself,  
I breathe deep and cry out,  
"Isn't something missing?'/_

"Killing someone that's trying to kill you, and killing your parents is a completely different thing," he tells her coldly, his voice like stone. For a moment she doesn't reply, sounding shocked, and then looks away.

"What makes you think I actually care what you've done? You shouldn't either!" she glares at him. "You didn't have a choice! You were doing it under the influence of a murdering bastard and not because you wanted to. If you think that's enough of a reason for me to leave you on your own, you're wrong! Because you know what, I think we stand a better chance together. We wouldn't have gotten out if it weren't for the fact that we were two people instead of one!"

_/"Isn't someone missing me?"/_

"Chaya…" he looks pained, but inside he realizes that she's right. And that even if she wasn't right, he can't make her do anything she doesn't want to do because she's too stubborn. But still, he tries to convince her it's better for her to go. "If you stay with me…we can't go back. There's no more family or friends or freely walking around in public. It's not real freedom. At least on your own you have a chance – "

"Oh, right, because you're so much more special than I am that they'll only come after you and not me?" she rolls her eyes. "I think I've figured out how these people think, _Mikhail_, and the first lace they'll look for me is with my family. I stand a better chance with you – besides, you couldn't make it without a little craziness. And that would be me, right?"

For once he can't think of something to say to that. She has a point. And besides, the part of him that said that he loved her not twelve hours ago is cheering too loudly for him to actually think straight. And he doesn't have a chance to anyhow when she leans forward and presses her lips against his, as though sealing the deal.

For a moment, he can't think.

_/'And if I bleed, I'll bleed,_

_Knowing you don't care.'/_

And then she sits back again, holding out her hand as though nothing happened and asking for the gauze so that she can fix what those 'moron doctors at the hospital' didn't. Wordlessly he hands it to her and she begins to go to work, whistling cheerfully.

_/'And if I sleep just to dream of you  
I'll wake without you there,'/_

So that settles it, it seems. After another moment, he's surprised to find himself speaking. "So…what happens now?"

She makes a strange face, and he nearly smiles when she says, "No more cigarettes."

(-)

_/'Isn't something missing?_

_Isn't something…?'/_

* * *

Done! Ca fait! J'ai fini! Es terminado! Vertig...and all the rest of the stuff to spew.

Yes, I caved and put in a song fic there but I was listening to it at the time I was writing it and it just worked with the imagery and the scene. For those of you that don't know, it's _Missing_ by Evanescence. I find them annoying now, but every now and then one of their songs jumps out at me for a moment.

As promised, here are the chapter names and meanings for those of you who don't know German:

Schlaflosigkeit - Sleeplessness  
Verbluted - Bloody  
Gestandnis - Understanding  
Freundschaft - Friendschip  
Niemand - No One  
Warheit - Truth  
Erinnerung - Memory  
Vertrauen - Trust  
Missbilligung -  
Absinken - Free falling  
Wach - Awake  
Schatten - Shadows  
Verzweiflung - Despair  
Alleine - Alone  
Ertrinken - Drowning  
Geheimnis - Secret  
Verdammt - Damned  
Abgrung - Abyss  
Feuer - Fire  
Gheist - Ghost  
Verflucht - Flight  
Schaden - Shame  
Gewalt - Force  
Tragodie - Tragedy  
Nachwort: Epilogue

I hope you all liked it, and if you're nice there might be a sequel or two in store…

R&R please,

Kuriness


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